THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


c 


DONALD  McELROY 

SCOTCH  IRISHMAN 


NELLY  STOOD  READY  TO  RECEIVE  THE  GENER. 


DONALD  MCELROY 

SCOTCH  IRISHMAN 


BY 

W.  W.  CALDWELL 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
FRANK  T.  MERRILL 


PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1918,  by 
George  W.  Jacobs  &  Company 


Att  rights  reserved 
Printed  in  17.  5.  A. 


PS 

\ 

c 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


g 

Nelly  stood  ready  to  receive  the  General    Frontispiece 


5T       I  laid  the  floral  wreath  carefully  upon 

the  bright  curls          ....    Facing  p.  SI 

3 

w     "You  have  evidently  mistaken  me  for 

|  a  villain"       .        .       .       .       .       .  "      112 


p-     "Cousin   Donald!     Colonel    Clark!" 

she  called  sharply      .       ....  "      215 

o 

;  J 
fl 


459966 


CHAPTER  I 

The  life  story  of  most  men,  who  have  lived 
earnest  and  active  lives,  would  doubtless  be  worth 
the  hearing,  if  the  various  influences  and  the  many 
vicissitudes  which  compose  it  could  be  separated  and 
skillfully  rearranged  into  some  well  wrought  design. 
As  I  look  back  upon  my  own  life,  it  seems  to  me  full 
of  interest  and  instruction,  yet  I  suppose  not  more 
so  than  that  of  many  another;  wherefore,  were  per- 
sonal experiences  and  conclusions  the  sum  of  it,  I 
should  hesitate  to  write  them  down,  lest  those  events 
and  struggles  which  to  me  have  seemed  notable  and 
significant,  should  prove  in  the  telling  of  them  to 
have  been  but  commonplace  incidents  to  which  all 
are  liable.  Because  of  the  accident  of  my  birth  in 
the  year  1754,  however,  I  have  lived  through  a 
period  which  will  be  ever  memorable  in  the  history 
of  the  world  —  a  period  so  crowded  with  worthy 
deeds  and  great  men,  especially  on  this  continent, 
that  there  is  small  danger  its  interest  will  be  soon 
exhausted.  Do  not  conclude  that  I  intend  to  venture 
upon  a  tale  of  the  American  Revolution ;  only  a  mas- 
ter's hand  can  fill  in  with  due  skill  and  proportion 
so  wide  a  canvas,  and  that  story  waits.  Where  my 
own  life's  story  has  been  entangled  with  some  of 
the  events  of  that  struggle  I  must  touch  upon  them, 
and  the  real  purpose  of  my  narrative  —  which  is 
to  chronicle  for  future  generations  the  noble  part 


8  DONALD  MCELROY 

played  in  the  great  drama  of  the  nation's  making 
by  a  certain  worthy  people  —  will  require  me  to  re- 
view briefly  a  few  of  the  battles  and  campaigns  of 
our  war  against  autocracy. 

The  Scotch  Irish  of  America,  through  the  com- 
mendable habit  of  that  race,  so  it  be  not  carried  too 
far,  to  put  their  strength  into  deeds  rather  than  into 
words,  have  missed  their  meed  of  credit  for  the  im- 
portant work  they  did  in  our  struggle  for  liberty. 
Now,  our  honored  fellow-countrymen  and  co-patri- 
ots, the  Puritans,  have  not  made  this  mistake;  they 
took  their  part  in  action  nobly,  and  also  they  have 
taken  care  to  record  in  history,  song,  and  story  the 
might  and  glory  of  their  deeds.  The  "  Boston  Tea 
Party  "  and  the  "  Boston  Massacre  "  will  go  down 
emblazoned  on  the  page  of  history,  but  the  fight  at 
Alamance,  and  the  vehement  petitions  urging  resist- 
ance to  tyranny  sent  up  to  state  conventions,  and 
the  first  Congress,  by  the  Scotch  Irish  counties  of 
Virginia,  North  Carolina,  and  Pennsylvania  have 
scarcely  been  heard  of. 

It  is  my  hope  not  only  to  show  what  the  Scotch 
Irish  have  done  for  the  cause  of  liberty,  but  also  to 
give  a  just  idea  of  the  character  of  this  people,  a  true 
picture  of  their  home  life,  and  a  correct  estimate  of 
that  religion  which  is  so  dear  to  them,  and  which 
has  had  so  much  to  do  with  making  them  the  free- 
dom-loving, and  withal  broad-minded  patriots  they 
are.  Few  men,  I  flatter  myself,  are  better  equipped 
to  tell  a  Scotch  Irish  story  than  I,  Donald  McElroy, 
who  in  blood  am  pure  blue  Scotch  Irish,  who  have 
been  instructed  by  Scotch  Irish  divines  in  things  tem- 
poral and  spiritual,  have  fought  under  Scotch  Irish 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  9 

leaders,  and  lived  all  my  life  among  them:  yet  I 
think  I  may  promise  that  my  story  shall  not  be  a 
mere  idyl  —  a  panegyric  of  a  people,  all  whose  vir- 
tues will  be  exaggerated,  all  whose  faults  will  be 
slurred,  or  kept  out  of  sight.  I  have  seen  too  much 
of  life  not  to  know  that  for  each  height  there  is  a 
shadow,  that  every  noble  trait  of  character  is  closely 
attended  by  a  special  weakness.  I  know  the  faults 
of  my  people  as  I  know  their  virtues,  and  through  one 
dearer  to  me  than  all  else  the  world  holds,  I  have 
suffered  much  from  that  narrowness  of  view  and 
stubbornness  of  purpose  peculiar  to  some  of  them. 

My  boyhood  was  spent  within  the  bounds  of  our 
own  plantation,  in  the  valley  of  Virginia.  Rarely 
was  I  allowed  to  venture  beyond  sight  of  the  house 
unless  in  company  with  my  father,  or  some  of  the 
negro  slaves;  then  only  to  the  plow  lands,  or  the 
harvest  fields,  until  I  had  learned  the  use  of  rifle, 
knife  and  tomahawk.  After  that  I  was  permitted  to 
hunt  in  the  forest,  being  solemnly  charged  each  time 
by  my  mother  that  I  should  not  go  more  than  a  few 
hundred  yards  into  the  woods  in  any  direction,  nor 
be  lured  by  deer  or  squirrel  into  the  thickets.  There 
might  be  Indians  lurking  in  the  bushes  any  day,  and 
the  youthfulness  of  a  scalp  did  not  impair  its  value. 
Later,  when  I  could  ride  and  run  like  an  Indian,  and 
shoot  a  bounding  deer  through  the  heart,  at  a  dis- 
tance of  three  hundred  feet,  I  was  not  admonished 
so  frequently,  and  used  often  to  hunt  alone  the  day 
long,  coming  home  at  twilight,  my  horse  strung 
round  with  many  kinds  of  game. 

All  this  time  with  my  uncle's  eldest  son,  Thomas, 
I  was  being  taught  English,  Greek,  Latin  and  Math- 


io  DONALD  MCELROY 

ematics  by  an  old  Scotchman,  who  had  become  one 
of  my  grandfather's  household  before  the  family 
left  Pennsylvania.  He  was  a  fellow  of  Edinburgh 
University,  and  but  for  the  disabilities  of  encroach- 
ing age  was  well  fitted  to  bestow  upon  us  all  the 
education  we  could  imbibe. 

Among  the  incidents  of  my  boyhood,  two  stand 
out  with  peculiar  distinctness.  Both  were  fraught 
with  terrible  danger,  and  yet,  as  they  come  back  to 
me,  I  realize  with  something  of  astonishment  that 
except  for  one  brief  moment,  on  each  occasion,  I 
felt  only  a  sensation  of  exhilarating  excitement  and 
grim  determination.  By  living  in  the  midst  of 
hourly  peril,  we  pioneers  were  dulled  to  the  sense 
of  it.  Our  one  thought  when  peril  overtook  us  was 
to  do  our  utmost,  in  the  full  assurance  that  the 
God  of  our  fathers,  who  miraculously  had  preserved 
us  through  so  many  dangers,  would  again  interpose 
for  our  deliverance.  In  such  faith,  and  naught 
else  could  have  served  them,  my  mother  went  sing- 
ing about  her  work,  and  my  father  stood  guard, 
alone,  over  his  slaves,  day  after  day,  as  they  felled 
the  timber  on  the  hill  slopes,  in  sight  of  the  moun- 
tain pass  through  which  the  Indians  were  accustomed 
to  raid  our  valley,  without  cause  or  warning. 

This  Saturday  afternoon,  in  the  fall  of  the  year,  I 
had  gone  hunting  afoot.  In  hot  pursuit  after  a  deer, 
I  penetrated  a  thicket  deep  in  the  forest,  there  to 
lose  track  of  my  game.  But  in  making  my  way 
out,  came  full  upon  a  panther's  burrow,  and  so  much 
admired  the  one  striped  and  mottled  cub  curled 
therein,  that  the  fancy  seized  me  to  carry  it  home 
and  attempt  to  tame  it.  Hearing  no  sound  of  the 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  n 

parent  beast,  I  put  the  sleeping  cub  into  my  game 
bag,  and  started  homeward.  Scarcely  half  a  mile 
had  been  covered  when  there  came  from  the  thicket 
behind  me  that  nerve-shaking  cry  of  the  panther,  re- 
sembling nothing  else  so  much  as  the  scream  of  a 
child  in  mortal  terror.  My  steady  gait  quickened 
into  a  run.  A  second  screech  came  from  the  pur- 
suing panther.  Knowledge  of  my  danger  lent  wings 
to  my  limbs,  but  the  beast  gained  on  me  with  long 
leaps  of  her  agile  body.  Louder  and  louder 
sounded  her  oft  repeated  cries,  and  the  cub  in  my 
bag  answered  with  pitiable  whines.  I  could  hear 
her  deep,  swift  panting,  and  the  soft  thud  of  her 
feet  upon  the  leafy  ground.  The  open  field  was 
gained  but  a  few  yards  in  advance  of  her,  and  turn- 
ing to  face  my  foe  a  sudden  panic  seized  me.  To  my 
amazement  she  paused  at  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and, 
after  turning  a  scornful  glance  in  my  direction,  fixed 
a  meditative  eye  upon  a  sunset  more  gorgeous  than 
usual.  With  that  alertness  of  observation,  and 
acuteness  of  consciousness  which  most  persons  ex- 
perience in  moments  of  high  tension,  I  remember 
noting  the  rich  coloring  of  the  tan  and  brown  rings 
on  the  creature's  sleek  and  mottled  skin,  and  of 
thinking  what  a  fine,  soft  cover  it  would  make  for 
my  mother's  rocking  chair. 

Suddenly  the  panther  turned  toward  me,  uttering 
a  still  more  blood-curdling  cry,  and  crouched  for 
a  spring.  My  ball  met  her  as  she  rose,  but  only  to 
sting  her,  and  make  her  the  more  furious.  Her 
body  came  against  mine  with  the  force  of  a  cannon 
ball,  and  I  went  down  under  it,  my  unloaded  rifle 
being  hurled  from  my  hand.  Fastened  by  the  ani- 


12  DONALD  MCELROY 

mal's  claws,  together  we  rolled  over  and  over  in 
the  dry,  matted  grass  of  the  meadow,  struggling  des- 
perately. 

The  confused,  doubtful  struggle  was  presently 
over  and  not  only  was  I  alive  and  fully  conscious, 
but  could  even  move  my  mangled  arm,  and  stand 
upon  my  feet.  The  hilt  of  my  knife  stuck  straight 
upward  in  the  long  fur  upon  the  creature's  breast, 
and  I  pulled  it  out,  wiped  it  upon  the  grass,  and 
sheathed  it,  thinking  I  would  not  use  it  again,  but 
keep  it  for  remembrance. 

Again  I  was  struck  by  the  thickness  and  beauty 
of  the  panther's  skin,  and  wished  to  have  it  for  my 
mother's  chair.  It  was  my  custom  to  carry  a  leath- 
ern thong  in  the  outer  pouch  of  my  game  bag;  one 
end  of  it  I  now  fastened  about  the  beast's  body,  the 
other  about  my  own,  and  so  dragged  the  carcass 
after  me  across  the  level  field.  Slow  and  painful 
was  my  progress,  for  my  lacerated  shoulder  and 
arm  smarted  maddeningly,  and  every  few  yards  I 
was  forced  to  drop  upon  the  ground  to  rest. 

The  full  moon  was  two  hours  high,  when,  at  last, 
I  came  to  the  barn  yard  stile,  on  which  my  father 
leaned,  scanning  the  fields  anxiously. 

"  Well,  son,  I'm  glad  you've  come,"  said  my 
father,  "  your  mother  is  half  dead  with  anxiety." 

I  showed  my  trophy  and  told  my  story. 

"  You  did  a  foolish  thing,  Don,  when  you  stole 
the  cub,  but  your  mother  need  have,  I  think,  little 
further  anxiety  about  you;  you  are  as  able  to  take 
care  of  yourself  as  any  seasoned  woodsman." 

The  glow  of  pride  my  father's  words  gave  me 
changed  to  a  feeling  of  remorse  when  I  saw  my 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  13 

mother's  blanched  face  and  trembling  hands.  She 
would  not  consent  to  let  me  tame  the  cub.  "  Our 
lives  were  already  close  enough  to  savagery,"  she 
said,  "  with  Indians  and  wild  beasts  likely  to  fall 
upon  us  at  any  moment;  we  do  not  want  the  sweet 
peace  of  our  home  broken  by  any  savage  sight  or 
sound."  She  kept  the  skin,  though,  used  it  on  her 
winter  rocking  chair,  and  prized  it  highly.  Indeed 
I  have  more  than  once  overheard  her  tell  how  she 
came  by  it. 

The  second  incident  of  my  youth  most  vividly 
stamped  upon  my  memory  happened  just  ten  months 
after  I  killed  the  panther. 

The  occasion  was  the  last  Indian  raid  into  our 
valley.  Fortunately  we  had  two  days'  warning,  and 
in  that  time  the  women  and  children  were  gathered 
within  the  recently  completed  stockade  around  the 
church,  with  provisions  enough  for  a  week's  siege. 
Meanwhile  the  men  took  their  rifles  and  marched 
to  the  mountain  pass  through  which  the  Indians 
were  expected  to  enter  the  valley,  hoping  to  turn  the 
savages  back  with  a  bloody  lesson  such  as  would 
last  them  a  while,  and  insure  us  some  more  years  of 
peace. 

Much  exalted  in  my  own  opinion  by  my  recent  ex- 
ploit with  the  panther,  I  begged  to  go  with  the  men, 
and  took  it  somewhat  sullenly  that  I  should  be  left 
behind  with  the  rest  of  the  youths,  under  the  cap- 
taincy of  the  parson,  to  guard  a  church  full  of  women 
and  children.  About  half  an  hour  before  sunset  on 
the  second  day  I  was  descending  the  hill  behind  the 
church  to  the  spring,  a  piggin  in  either  hand,  and 
my  ever  present  rifle  under  my  arm,  when  I  saw  on 


i4  DONALD  MCELROY 

the  crest  of  the  opposite  hill  a  file  of  Indians,  their 
painted  bodies  and  feather  crested  heads  standing 
out  against  the  glowing  sky,  as  distinctly  as  a  picture 
on  a  white  leaf.  Back  I  flew  to  the  church,  with 
the  alarm  hot  on  my  lips,  and  found  that  Parson 
Craig  had  assembled  all  within  for  evening 
worship.  In  an  instant,  Bible  and  Psalm  book  laid 
aside,  the  doors  of  the  church  were  barricaded, 
and  we  youths,  each  with  rifle  or  musket  loaded 
and  primed,  stood  close  about  our  parson,  awaiting 
orders. 

"  Lads,"  he  said,  in  tones  that  rang  as  they  did 
when  he  preached  one  of  his  famous  sermons  of 
warning  to  sinners,  and  dropping  in  a  Scotch  word 
here  and  there,  as  he  was  apt  to  when  excited,  "  keep 
cool  and  fire  carefully  when  ye  ha'e  taken  good  aim. 
We  ha'e  nae  bullets  to  spare  and  each  ain  maun  hold 
himself  responsible  for  half  a  dozen  savages.  Re- 
member, lads,  ye  are  fightin'  for  your  maithers,  your 
sisters,  your  kirk  an'  your  hames,  for  a'  that  true 
men  hauld  dear,  and  if  ye  maun  gie  your  verra  lives 
to  save  these  dearer  things  count  not  the  price,  but 
pay  like  brave  men,  and  like  brothers  o'  that  dear 
Christ  wha  gladly  gi'ed  His  life  a  sacrifice  for  us  a'. 
Fear  not  death,  my  lads  — 'tis  but  the  beginning  of 
life,  but  fear  for  your  maithers'  and  your  sisters'  tor- 
ture and  dishonor." 

Hardly  had  the  brave  pastor  spoken  the  last  word, 
when  the  stockade  was  surrounded  by  whooping  red 
skins,  brandishing  tomahawks  and  war  clubs,  and 
yelling  to  each  other  unintelligible  words  of  com- 
mand or  exhortation.  In  another  instant  they  were 
flying  a  shower  of  arrows  and  bullets  over  the  top 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  15 

of  the  stockade,  and  several  savage  faces  appeared 
above  the  wall. 

A  second,  third  and  fourth  attempt  to  scale  the 
stockade  was  made.  For  a  while,  however,  I  could 
render  little  assistance  in  checking  our  enemies  from 
without,  for  I  was  engaged  in  a  hand  to  hand  death 
grapple  with  one  of  the  three  Indians  who  at  the  first 
rush  succeeded  in  getting  within  our  enclosure. 
Never,  before  or  since,  had  I  so  mighty  a  wrestle 
for  my  life,  and  but  for  my  superior  height,  and  the 
strength  of  my  strong  arms,  my  reader  would  have 
been  spared  this  personal  narrative. 

The  next  half  hour  —  it  seems  thrice  as  long  — 
stays  in  my  mind  as  an  idea  of  what  Hell  might  well 
be  like.  Row  after  row  of  hideous,  paint  streaked, 
savage  faces  rose  about  our  wall;  the  crack  of  rifles, 
the  whizz  of  arrows,  the  yell  of  the  red  demons,  the 
shrieks  of  the  wounded,  the  groans  of  the  dying, 
mingled  in  a  hideous  clamor,  and  above  all  rose  the 
wailing  of  frightened  children,  and  the  moans  of 
terrified  women.  The  one  harmonious  note  amidst 
this  frightful  discord  was  the  ringing,  cheerful  tone 
of  Parson  Craig's  voice,  as  he  encouraged  his  lads 
between  the  quickly  succeeding  shots  of  his  own 
musket. 

Again  and  again  I  fired  my  good  rifle,  and  when- 
ever a  savage  face  fell  backward  from  the  top  of  the 
stockade,  I  experienced  a  heart  bound  of  fierce  joy. 
Not  until  there  was  almost  complete  silence  about 
us  and  not  a  living  Indian  in  sight,  did  we  boys  cease 
the  almost  mechanical  action  of  loading  and  firing, 
and  turn  to  look  about  us. 

The  ground  both  within  and  without  the  enclos- 


1 6  DONALD  MCELROY 

ure,  was  strewn  with  dead  and  dying  Indians,  half 
a  score  of  them  at  least,  and  some  of  the  lads  were 
carrying  our  own  injured,  six  in  all,  into  the  church, 
where  tender  hands  waited  to  dress  their  wounds. 
Presently  I  discovered  clotted  blood  upon  my  sleeve, 
and  realized  for  the  first  time  that  a  bullet  had 
pierced  my  leathern  shirt  and  the  flesh  of  my  left 
arm  between  shoulder  and  elbow. 

Next  day  the  militiamen  joined  us,  and  we  learned 
that  the  Indians  had  evaded  them  by  seeking  another 
pass  higher  up  the  range;  also  that  they  had  dev- 
astated all  the  valley,  except  our  end  of  it.  We 
had  stopped  effectually  the  war  party  detailed 
against  us,  and  had  saved  our  homes  and  crops,  as 
well  as  the  lives  of  our  women  and  children.  The 
valley  rang  with  praise  of  "  the  fighting  lads,"  and 
my  father's  face  beamed  with  pride  and  tenderness 
as  he  shook  my  hand. 

"  I  shall  call  you  boy  no  longer,  Donald,"  he  said; 
"  you  have  nobly  earned  your  majority;  my  advice  is 
always  at  your  service,  sir,  but  no  longer  I  give  you 
commands."  I  think  I  never  had  a  promotion  or  an 
honor  that  so  pleasured  me ;  and  doubtless  my  father 
was  shrewd  enough  to  know  that  by  thus  expressing 
his  pride  and  confidence  in  me,  he  was  fixing  upon 
me  a  sense  of  uplifting  responsibility,  as  one  from 
whom  only  noble  deeds  were  expected,  which  would 
prove  a  restraint  stronger  than  any  which  the  most 
respected  authority  could  impose  —  an  obligation  to 
right  and  duty  neither  to  be  shirked,  nor  forgotten. 


CHAPTER  II 

The  mellow  glow  of  September  lay  upon  green 
hills  and  purple  mountains,  sleeping  in  serene  content 
against  a  tender  sky.  Over  quiet  woods,  and  glid- 
ing river,  bordered  with  ribbons  of  rich  meadows, 
brooded  a  sweet  peace,  as  if  nature,  after  a  busy 
and  fruitful  season,  took  her  well  earned  rest  in 
mood  of  conscious  thankfulness.  The  very  grapes, 
hanging  in  heavy  amber  clusters  below  the  sloping 
roof  of  the  low-eaved  porch  on  which  I  sat,  sug- 
gested fruition  and  content,  as  if  they  had  stored  all 
the  sweetness  possible  within  their  bursting  skins, 
and  now  rested  thankfully  upon  their  strong  stems. 

I  could  see  my  father  salting  sheep  in  the  meadow, 
watered  by  the  spring-run,  below  the  house,  and  I 
smiled  as  presently  he  sought  the  shade  of  a  spread- 
ing elm,  and  stretched  himself  full  length  upon  the 
ground.  The  droning  of  the  bees,  and  the  sleepy 
humming  of  the  flies  added  to  the  lazy  influence 
of  the  fondling  fruit-scented  breeze;  I  almos'  nod- 
ded over  my  bullet  molding  for  a  moment,  then 
roused  myself  and  went  to  work.  Saturday  was  my 
only  holiday,  and  I  could  not  laze  the  morning  away 
unless  I  were  content  to  miss  my  one  chance  during 
the  week  for  an  afternoon  in  the  forest. 

"  Good  morning,  nephew,"  spoke  suddenly  a 
high,  strong  voice  which  I  knew  to  be  Aunt  Martha's. 


1 8  DONALD  MCELROY 

"  Spend  you  all  your  spare  time  polishing  firearms, 
molding  bullets,  and  shooting  animals?  " 

I  turned  in  my  chair,  and  looked  up  to  see  my 
mother's  sister,  who  was  as  unlike  her  as  one  sister 
could  be  from  another  —  coming  up  the  sidewalk, 
and  my  father  leading  her  pacing  mare  from  the 
stile,  stable-ward.  Aunt  Martha's  erect  and  well 
formed  shoulders  had  a  square  set  which  gave  her  a 
masculine  air,  and  she  held  her  somewhat  sharp 
chin  and  nose  tilted  a  little  upward,  as  if  she  felt 
very  sure  of  her  own  convictions.  Her  brown  hair 
was  brushed  back  severely  from  her  square,  high 
brow,  and  her  gray  eyes  met  your  gaze  steadily  with 
a  look  that  was  not  unkind,  though  it  was  certainly 
not  sympathetic,  nor  confidence  inviting. 

"  Good  morning,  Aunt  Martha,"  I  answered,  in 
undisturbed,  and  cheerful  tones  —  for  I  never  al- 
lowed Aunt  Martha  to  disconcert  or  overawe  me, 
as  she  did  her  own  son,  Thomas,  and  even  Uncle 
Thomas  himself  — "  I'll  clear  the  way  for  you  in 
a  moment,"  and  I  began  to  push  back  my  chair,  rifle 
and  implements  from  the  middle  of  the  porch. 

"  Your  time  might  be  better  spent,  nephew,  in 
my  opinion,"  continued  Aunt  Martha,  as  she  stood 
waiting  on  the  step,  looking  with  stern  disapproval 
first  at  me,  and  then  at  the  cluttered  floor  of  the 
porch.  "  Our  lads,  it  seems  to  me"  (Aunt  Martha 
always  accented  the  me  or  the  my)  "  are  growing  up 
to  be  a  turbulent  and  bloodthirsty  race,  with  but  the 
most  carnal  ideas  of  life.  Did  we  but  serve  God 
more  entirely,  and  trust  Him  more  fully,  we  would 
depend  less  upon  our  own  strength  and  skill,  and 
more  upon  Him  to  defend  and  take  care  of  us.  And 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  19 

after  all  what  is  man's  puny  strength  against  the 
dangers  of  this  life?  It  is  our  all  powerful  Heav- 
enly Father  who  must  save  and  protect  us.  " 

u  True  enow,  Martha,  true  enow,"  broke  in  the 
voice  of  my  grandmother,  who  appeared  just  then 
in  the  front  doorway,  her  ever  busy  fingers  picking 
up  and  knitting  off  the  stitches  from  her  shining 
needles  with  steady  click,  "  but  God  has  naewhere 
promised  to  do  His  ain  work,  and  man's  as  weel. 
He  led  the  children  o'  Israel  to  the  Promised  Land, 
and  then  bade  them  fight  for  a'  they  wanted  o'  it,  nor 
did  they  get  ony  more  than  they  could  win  an'  hauld. 
There's  yet  need,  plenty,  for  men  who  can  shoot  in 
this  colony,  and  likely  to  be  for  mony  lang  days  to 
come.  Let  the  lad  alone,  Martha;  he's  fearless,  an' 
sometimes  rash,  but  neither  bloodthirsty  nor  a 
brawler,"  and  as  my  aunt  stepped  into  my  mother's 
room,  adjoining,  to  lay  aside  her  bonnet,  I  heard  my 
grandmother  add  in  somewhat  impatient  tones, 

"  I'm  glad  enow  to  ken  ye're  sae  pious,  Martha, 
but  dinna  get  to  be  fanatical,  nor  in  the  way  o'  going 
about  a'  the  time  with  reproof  in  your  een,  an'  a 
sairmon  on  your  lips.  You  but  cheapen  our  holy  re- 
ligion sae,  an'  harden  the  young  an'  the  uncon- 
verted." 

My  grandmother  spoke  with  a  rich  Irish  accent 
that  it  is  impossible  to  indicate,  for  it  was  not  a 
brogue,  nor  a  dialect;  it  was  merely  a  full-throated, 
and  somewhat  rolling  sound  which  she  gave  to  cer- 
tain words.  Her  language  too,  was  freely  sprinkled 
with  Scotch  words,  and  these  she  pronounced  with 
broad  Scotch  accent.  The  combination  was  delight- 
ful, and  her  blended  speech  added  a  peculiar  charm 


20  DONALD  MCELROY 

to  the  fascinating  stories  she  could  sometimes  be 
beguiled  into  telling. 

"  It  is  strange  doctrine,  mother,  that  one  may  be 
too  pious,"  answered  my.aunt,  who  certainly  did  not 
number  meekness  among  her  Christian  virtues.  Nor 
was  my  grandmother  meek  spirited,  and  a  warm  ar- 
gument would  likely  have  followed  had  not  my 
mother,  whose  sweet  and  placid  temper  was  the  oil 
ready,  at  all  times,  to  be  poured  on  the  threatening 
argument,  entered  the  back  door  at  that  moment. 

With  Dulce,  the  cook  woman,  to  help  her  she  had 
been  making  candles  all  morning,  in  the  back 
kitchen  —  my  father  having  killed  a  fat  beef  but  a 
few  days  before  —  and  on  seeing  Aunt  Martha's 
horse  led  to  the  stable  she  had  but  waited  to  hang 
up  the  last  dipping,  and  to  tidy  herself  before  com- 
ing in  to  welcome  her  sister. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Sister  Martha,"  she  began 
cheerily,  "  I'm  more  glad  than  ordinarily  to  see  you; 
indeed  I  was  just  wishing  I  could  send  for  you  to 
eat  some  of  the  suet  pudding  we  are  boiling  for  din- 
ner; I  know  you  are  fond  of  it." 

"  Yes,  suet  pudding  is  a  favorite  dish  of  mine," 
said  my  aunt,  solemnly  and  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  but 
I  am  little  in  the  mood  to  enjoy  anything  this  morn- 
ing, Rachael." 

"And  what  troubles  you  noo,  daughter?"  asked 
grandmother  kindly,  but  with  no  note  of  anxiety  in 
her  cheery  voice. 

"  I  thought  you  looked  pestered,  child,"  added  my 
mother  in  soothing  tones;  "take  this  chair,  it  sits 
easier  than  that  one,  and  tell  us  what's  on  your 
mind." 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  21 

'  'Tis  about  the  letter  that  came  yesterday  to 
Thomas,"  and  Aunt  Martha  paused,  to  whet  still 
further  her  listeners'  curiosity,  and  meantime,  heaved 
another  deep  sigh. 

"  Well,  Martha,  who  writ  the  letter,  an'  what 
was't  writ  aboot?"  somewhat  impatiently  from 
grandmother. 

"  'T'was  writ  by  a  cousin  of  Thomas',  in  Balti- 
more, to  bring  him  news  of  his  Sister  Mary's  death, 
and  of  her  husband's,  Owen  O'Niel,  of  the  small  pox 
plague  within  three  days  of  each  other,"  and  again 
Aunt  Martha  sighed. 

"  But  you  ken  but  little  o'  Mary  O'Niel,  child, 
and  'tis  near  fifteen  years  syne  you  ha'e  seen  her," 
remarked  my  grandmother,  a  touch  of  impatience 
still  audible  in  her  voice. 

"  They  left  an  only  daughter,"  continued  my  aunt, 
"  and  made  dying  request  that  the  child,  Ellen,  might 
be  sent  to  Virginia  to  the  care  of  Mary's  brother. 
And  now  Thomas  says  there's  naught  else  to  do  but 
that  he  must  start  at  once  to  bring  her  to  our  house." 

"Thomas  is  right,  Martha;  there's  naught  else 
to  be  doon ;  —  the  child  canna  weal  come  sae  far 
alone,  e'en  by  the  stages.  But  I  see  nae  sic  sair 
trouble  in  that,  though  I'm  nae  denyin'  'twill  be 
something  of  a  trial  to  you  to  spare  Thomas  for 
four  or  five  weeks.  At  the  same  time  'twill  be  a 
welcome  opportunity  to  get  some  muslins,  cap  laces, 
and  sic  like  things;  and  Martha,  you  micht  hae  him 
fetch  you  the  table  and  bed  linens  you  hae  wanted 
for  sae  lang,"  and  grandmother's  voice  sounded  as 
cheery  as  a  bird's  morning  carol,  while  she  suggested 
these  substantial  compensations. 


22  DONALD  MCELROY 

"  And  William  will  be  glad  to  come  over  every 
few  days,  sister,  to  advise  with  Thomas,  who,  though 
he's  but  a  boy  yet,  is  a  sensible,  steady  lad,  and  can 
see  that  the  negroes  carry  out  his  father's  direc- 
tions." 

"  'Tis  not  the  sparing  Thomas  I  am  most  troubled 
about,  Rachael,  though  I  like  not  the  prospect  of  his 
absence,  and  son  Thomas  is  in  all  things  a  child  yet. 
That  which  kept  me  awake  last  night  was  the  thought 
of  having  an  O'Niel  and  a  Catholic  in  my  household. 
'Tis  bitter,  indeed,  after  all  our  people  have  suffered 
from  that  name  and  that  religion." 

"  Tut,  tut,  Martha;  you  fret  me,"  said  my  grand- 
mother, almost  shrilly,  only  shrillness  was  not  possi- 
ble to  her  rich  voice.  "  I'd  ne'er  keep  an  old  sore 
running  that  I  micht  hae  the  nursing  o'  it.  And  was 
na'  the  great,  great  grandmaither  of  yourself  an 
O'Niel  and  a  Catholic?  'Tis  nae  fact  we  hae  reason 
to  be  greatly  proud  of,  I  weel  ken,  yet  O'Niel  is 
nae  low  Irish  name,  nor  is  the  Catholic  religion, 
though  it  be  full  of  superstition,  sae  bad  as  some 
folks  believe.  I  hae  known,  indeed,  charitable  and 
pious  Catholics,  and  there  was  a  time  when  an 
O'Niel  stood  staunch  friend  to  our  family,  else  I  mis- 
doubt me  there'd  hae  been  nae  McElroys  in  America 
to-day." 

"  And  Ellen  is  only  a  child,  sister,"  put  in  my 
mother;  "  we'll  make  a  good  Presbyterian  of  her  in 
no  time." 

"Ne'er  by  driving,"  said  grandmother;  "an 
O'Niel  was  ne'er  yet  driven  to  do  anything." 

"  She's  fourteen  or  more,  thinks  Thomas,  and 
knowing  the  bigoted  and  stubborn  spirit  of  the 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  23 

O'Niels  I  doubt  not  she  is  set  in  her  idolatrous  re- 
ligion by  this  time,"  sighed  Aunt  Martha. 

"  But  she  may  be  a  sweet,  tractable  child,  sister, 
and  since  you've  no  daughter  of  your  own,  and  I've 
always  been  sorry  you  did  not  have  —  Jean's  such 
a  pleasure  to  us  —  this  Ellen'll  doubtless  grow  up 
to  be  a  great  comfort  to  you." 

Getting  no  response  to  this  cheerful  doctrine  but 
another  sigh,  my  mother  got  up,  and  said  briskly: 

"  Come,  Martha,  I  want  you  to  see  my  cheeses. 
I  never  made  finer  ones,  I'm  sure." 

The  invitation  proved  too  tempting  to  resist,  and 
Aunt  Martha  followed  mother  into  the  back  entry, 
wearing  still  the  look  of  a  much  burdened  woman. 
She  would  forget  her  role,  presently,  however,  in 
the  interest  of  inspecting  jellies,  and  butters,  and 
sampling  the  new  cheeses.  My  mother  was  a  fa- 
mous housewife,  and  her  domestic  products  were  the 
admiration  of  the  neighborhood. 

"  Grandmother,"  I  said,  joining  her  as  soon  as 
they  were  out  of  hearing,  "  who  is  this  Ellen  O'Niel 
who  is  niece  to  Uncle  Thomas?  " 

"  Well,  laddie,  'tis  a  tangled  story,  but  I  will  e'en 
try  to  unravel  it  for  you,  if  you'll  hold  this  hank  of 
yarn  till  I  wind  me  a  good  ball." 

There  was  nothing,  save  hunting,  I  liked  so  well  as 
my  grandmother's  stories;  so  I  drew  my  chair  in 
front  of  her  and  held  my  arms  as  still  as  I  could, 
while  she  wound  dexterously,  and  told  me  the  origin 
of  Ellen  O'Niel. 

To-day  I  can  shut  my  eyes  and  call  up  the  picture 
of  the  "  big  room  "  in  the  comfortable  log  house 
where  I  was  born  and  raised.  Its  walls  of  hewn 


H  DONALD  MCELROY 

logs,  brown  from  smoke  and  age,  and  chinked  with 
yellow  plastering,  were  almost  covered  with  wild 
skins,  and  stag  antlers;  these  last  used  as  rests  for 
muskets,  and  powder  horns.  Over  its  small  paned, 
deep  silled  windows  hung  speckless  muslin  curtains; 
upon  its  floor  was  spread  a  gayly  striped  rag  carpet; 
and  the  wooden  rocking-chairs  were  made  soft  with 
skins  or  feather  cushions.  The  high  mantel-shelf 
was  ornamented,  at  either  end,  with  squat  wide- 
lipped  blue  pitchers,  and  between  them  two  shining 
brass  candle-sticks,  having  trays  and  snuffers  to 
match.  In  winter  these  pitchers  were  filled  with 
dried  grasses  and  "everlastings;"  in  summer  with 
flowers  of  the  marigold,  poppy,  heartsease  or  love- 
in-mist,  and  the  great  fireplace  below  with  feathery 
asparagus  branches.  At  all  times  it  was  a  homely, 
comfortable  room,  but  cosier  perhaps  on  winter 
evenings,  when  great  logs  blazed  high  above  the 
dogirons;  when  between  the  candles  on  either  end 
of  the  long  table  against  the  wall,  sat  plates  of  gin- 
ger bread,  and  pitchers  of  persimmon  beer;  when 
apples  sputtered  on  the  stone  hearth,  filling  the  room 
with  spicy  fragrance,  and  roasting  chestnuts  popped 
in  the  hot  ashes.  Especially  were  we  merry  on  such 
winter  evenings  as  guests  joined  the  hearth  circle 
around  the  blazing  logs.  Nor  were  they  so  infre- 
quent as  you  may  suppose,  for  my  father,  being  jus- 
tice of  the  county  and  a  man  of  substance,  kept  open 
house  for  travelers  of  all  degrees,  and,  since  they 
brought  us  all  our  news  from  the  outside  world,  they 
were  always  welcome.  On  such  evenings  I  was  bid 
to  hurry  with  my  lessons,  that  I  might  play  a  tune 
for  our  guests  on  my  fiddle  —  for  music  was  so  rare 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  25 

a  treat  in  our  settlement  that  even  my  poor,  self- 
taught  efforts  were  appreciated. 

But  I  am  wandering,  as  garrulous  old  age  is  apt  to 
do,  and  meantime  my  reader  waits  for  my  grand- 
mother's story. 

"  The  O'Niels,  lad,"  she  began,  "  lang  syne,  were 
a  great  family  in  Ireland,  the  Earls  O'Niel,  or  the 
Earls  O'Tyrone,  as  they  were  called,  being  heredi- 
tary chiefs  o'  a  powerful  clan,  in  the  northern  part 
o'  Ireland.  But  always  they  were  a  turbulent  peo- 
ple, an'  as  was  the  custom  with  mony  o'  the  Scotch 
an'  Irish  lads  in  those  days,  lived  for  the  maist  part 
by  pillaging  their  neighbors.  Continually,  too,  they 
were  the  leaders  in  Insurrection  against  the  English 
power,  and  as  far  back  as  the  reign  of  King  James 
part  o'  their  lands  were  forfeited  to  the  croon,  an' 
were  granted  or  sold  to  English  an'  Scotch  Protes- 
tants, with  the  hope  that  a  loyal  an'  peaceful  settle- 
ment in  the  heart  o'  brawling  Ireland  micht  help  to 
civilize  the  people,  an'  keep  them  quiet,  or  at  warst, 
help  to  subdue  them.  'Twas  then  our  ancestor  came 
to  Ulster  frae  Scotland,  though  your  father's  people 
not  until  half  a  century  later.  Our  people  were 
sheep  graziers  an'  wool  manufacturers,  and  always 
thrifty  and  prosperous.  The  Irish,  for  the  maist 
part,  e'en  the  great  lairds,  were  idle  and  shiftless, 
and  lived  in  a  sort  of  squalid  splendor  within  their 
castles,  surrounded  by  bands  of  clansmen  and  swarms 
o'  unpayed  retainers. 

"  Our  lands  were  close  to  the  castles  o'  Sir  Phelim 
O'Neil,  an'  I  hae  heard  my  grandmaither  say  that 
mony's  the  time  my  great  grandmaither  wad  send 
welcome  gifts  o'  cheese,  an'  meat  to  the  maither,o' 


26  DONALD  MCELROY 

Sir  Phelim,  when  he  would  be  absent  on  one  of  his 
lang  maraudin'  expeditions. 

"  Twas  in  the  year  1641,  that  the  massacre  of 
Protestants  took  place,  and  the  besotted,  cruel  Sir 
Phelim  was  thought  to  be  at  the  head  of  the  dread- 
ful plot.  At  first  Protestants  were  only  driven  from 
their  homes  to  wander,  starving  an'  shiverin',  aboot 
the  country,  refused  shelter  or  food  everywhere,  till 
mony  a  woman  and  her  bairns  perished  from  hunger 
and  exposure,  and  all  suffered  cruelly. 

"  Presently  the  killing  began,  an'  no  Protestant  in 
a'  that  part  o'  Ireland  escaped  save  the  verra  few 
who  found  refuge  with  Catholic  friends.  My  great 
grandmaither  an'  her  two  young  children  were 
amangst  those  few  fortunate  ones,  though  my  great 
grandfaither  was  killed.  She  lay  concealed  for 
weeks  in  a  disused  wing  o'  the  O'Niel  castle  itself, 
an'  was  carefully  guarded,  an'  provided  for  by  old 
lady  O'Niel. 

"  Afterwards  when  Cromwell  an'  his  men  marched 
into  Ulster  to  take  revenge,  my  great  grandmaither 
begged  successfully  for  the  lives  o'  Lady  O'Niel  an' 
her  two  grandsons.  They  were  not,  tho'  I  am  glad 
to  say,  the  children  o'  Sir  Phelim,  but  o'  a  younger 
son,  who  had  died  before  the  massacre.  My  grand- 
maither, when  she  grew  up,  married  Owen  O'Niel, 
an'  'tis  there  that  the  one  strain  o'  Irish  cooms  into 
our  bluid.  But  this  Owen  died  young,  an'  my  grand- 
maither went  back  to  her  ain  people,  with  naithin' 
to  show  the  Irish  in  her  children,  but  the  name  an' 
accent.  My  maither,  Jeannie,  married,  as  you 
know,  a  full  blooded  Scotchman,  William  Irvine,  an' 
I  anaither,  Douglas  Mcllwaine  —  yet  they  tell  me 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  27 

the  Irish  accent  has  descended  as  far  as  me,"  and 
my  grandmother  looked  at  me  with  a  half  merry, 
half  serious  question  in  her  eye. 

"  Just  enough  to  make  your  speech  roll  musically, 
grandmother.  So  then  I  am  a  cousin  of  Ellen 
O'Niel's  as  well  as  Thomas  Mitchell?  " 

"  Yes,  but  verra  deestant.  She's  a  direct  descend- 
ant o'  James,  a  brother  of  the  Owen  who  was  my 
ancestor,  an'  who  also  married  a  Scotch  lass  as  his 
brother  did,  in  spite  of  the  law  an'  the  custom.  The 
grandson  o'  James  was  amangst  the  first  o'  the 
Scotch  Irish  settlers  who  came  with  the  McElroys, 
an'  aithers  to  Pennsylvania  in  the  year  1729,  in  the 
good  ship,  George  and  Ann.  The  Mitchells  came 
a  few  years  later,  an'  your  Uncle  Thomas'  sister  mar- 
ried the  youngest  son  o'  this  first  emigrant,  some  six- 
teen years  syne." 

"  They  moved  from  Pennsylvania  to  Baltimore?  " 

"Yes;  James  O'Niel  was  a  shrewd  man,  and 
whilst  made  money  in  the  ship  traffic;  but  when 
Thomas  was  last  on,  he  brought  news  that  James 
had  lost  his  ship,  and  that  his  business  was  being 
taken  frae  him  by  richer  traders.  Thees  child  Ellen 
has  nae  aither  heritage,  I  suppose,  than  her  name,  an' 
mayhap  beauty  —  her  race  are  a  comely  people." 

"  Poor  child!  "  said  I,  "  'Tis  a  pity  she  must  come 
here." 

"  The  purposes  o'  God  in  His  providences  are  in- 
scrutable, lad;  but  that  He  maun  work  final  good  out 
o'  this  event  you  need  nae  meesdoot.  Martha's  a 
pious  woman,  an'  her  intentions  are  good,  though 
without  doot  she  is  overly  selfrighteous,  an'  has  nae 
understanding  o'  the  feelings  o'  the  young.  But 


28  DONALD  MCELROY 

remember,  my  son,  'twere  better  to  hae  o'er  mooch 
religion  than  not  enow,  an'  what  e'er  experience  life 
may  bring  you  ne'er  lose  reverence,  lad,  for  the  ear- 
nest and  beautiful  faith  of  your  forefaithers.  Be- 
cause there  be  some  who  pervert  its  solemnity  to 
sternness  —  do  not  conclude  that  Presbyterianism  is 
a  hard  and  narrow  faith.  There  be  some,  lad,  that 
wad  make  it  appear  so,  but  'tis  in  their  perverted 
minds,  an'  not  in  those  lofty  an'  consoling  doctrines 
which  turn  life  into  a  joyful  though  toilsome  pil- 
grimage to  a  blissful  eternity." 

"  Should  I  ever  be  inclined  to  think  Presbyterian- 
ism  a  cold,  hard  faith,  grandmother,"  I  answered, 
"  I  shall  but  need  to  think  of  you." 

"  Aye,  laddie,  think  o'  your  old  grandmaither,  an' 
that  she  told  you  thees  —  that  during  a  pilgrimage  o' 
seventy-five  years, —  an'  my  life  has  known  mony 
vicissitudes,  Donald,  an'  mooch  hardship  an'  dan- 
ger —  nae  trouble  e'er  came  to  her  that  her  religion 
dinna  gie  her  strength  to  endure  calmly,  and  hope- 
fully; and  nae  joy  that  her  faith  dinna  make  the 
sweeter  an'  brighter  —  as  being  but  a  faint  foretaste 
o'  that  perfect  an'  eternal  happiness  to  which  she 
felt  assured  she  was  journeying." 

As  grandmother  spoke  these  words,  there  grew 
upon  her  face  a  rapt  and  absent  look,  and  her  lips 
parted  in  a  smile  of  perfect  satisfaction.  I  like  to 
remember  her  thus  —  the  silky  bands  of  her  white 
hair  shining  beneath  her  soft  cap,  her  wrinkled  hands 
crossed  upon  the  finished  ball,  her  alert  brown  eyes 
dreamy  and  tender,  and  over  all  her  kind,  bright 
face,  that  look  of  pure  content  —  as  of  faith  assured, 
and  Heaven  already  realized. 


CHAPTER  HI 

Some  weeks  later  the  news  came  that  Uncle 
Thomas  had  returned,  bringing  with  him  the  "  Irish 
lass,"  and  a  huge  bundle  of  linens,  muslins,  laces,  tea, 
spices,  and  other  goods  and  delicacies  such  as  were 
difficult  to  come  by  in  our  remote  settlement.  The 
horses  were  saddled  as  early  the  next  morning  as 
my  mother's  energetic  household  management  per- 
mitted, and  she  and  grandmother,  who  sat  her  horse 
as  erectly  as  either  of  her  daughters,  rode  across 
the  fields  to  my  aunt's,  even  more  eager  to  inspect 
the  contents  of  the  bundles,  which  Uncle  Thomas 
had  brought,  than  to  see  our  new  kinswoman.  I 
accompanied  them,  on  foot,  to  lay  down  the  fences, 
and  to  watch  my  grandmother's  horse,  lest  he  stum- 
ble, though  I  did  not  dare  avow  the  last  named  ob- 
ject to  the  dear  old  lady,  who  liked  not  to  be  treated 
as  if  she  were  in  any  sense  incapacitated  by  her  age. 

When  Thomas  and  I  entered  the  big  room,  after 
stabling  the  horses,  we  could  see  the  three  women 
in  the  adjoining  spare  room,  gathered  about  the  bed 
which  was  piled  so  high  with  "  feather-ticks  "  that 
my  little  mother,  standing,  could  not  much  more  than 
see  the  top,  on  which  was  laid  out  an  array  of  fine 
dry  goods,  the  like  of  which  had  seldom  been  seen 
in  our  neighborhood. 

Aunt  Martha,  mounted  upon  the  bed-stool,  was 
drawing  to  the  edge  of  the  bed  piece  after  piece  of 


30  DONALD  McELROY 

her  treasures,  and  all  were  talking  volubly  as  they 
examined  each  article  with  eyes,  fingers,  tongues  and 
even  noses.  I  smiled  as  the  thought  came  into  my 
mind  that  Uncle  Thomas  had  used  the  wisdom  of  a 
serpent  combined  with  the  harmlessness  of  a  dove, 
according  to  the  Bible  injunction,  in  thus  diverting 
Aunt  Martha's  worrying  spirit  for  a  while  from  the 
Irish  lass  thrown,  so  unwelcome,  upon  their  chari- 
ties. Uncle  Thomas  would  sacrifice  anything  for 
peace  in  his  household,  though  he  lacked  not  courage 
where  another  than  his  wife  was  concerned. 

"Where  is  our  new  cousin,  Thomas?"  I  asked, 
as  I  hung  my  hat  upon  the  stag  antlers  near  the 
door. 

"  There,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  farthest  win- 
dow; then,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  he  ap- 
proached her  and  said,  with  shy,  off-hand  manner, 
"  This  is  another  cousin,  Ellen,  and  his  name  is  Don- 
ald McElroy." 

The  girl,  who  had  been  leaning  listlessly  on  the 
window  sill,  turned  a  thin  pale  face  towards  me,  and 
nodded  silently. 

"  You  must  be  very  tired,  Cousin  Ellen,"  I  said  as 
kindly  as  I  could,  moved  somehow  with  sympathy 
by  the  utter  dejection  of  her  attitude  and  expression. 

When  I  spoke  directly  to  her  she  looked  me  full  in 
the  face,  and  I  noted  the  singular  beauty  of  her  eyes. 
They  were  large,  almond-shaped,  the  bluest  I  have 
ever  seen,  and  rayed  with  minute,  dark  lines  which 
centered  in  the  wide  pupils.  Moreover,  the  dark 
lashes,  which  fringed  thickly  their  white  lids,  curved 
upward,  and  when  they  were  lifted  almost  touched 
the  gracefully  arched  black  brows.  Otherwise  her 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  31 

face  was  not  pretty;  it  was  too  long,  too  thin  and  too 
pale;  the  nose  was  somewhat  sharp  and  the  lips  were 
compressed  in  an  expression  that  denoted  either  sul- 
lenness  or  restrained  misery,  while  the  black  hair, 
which  had  been  cropped  like  a  boy's,  was  stubbly  and 
unbecoming. 

"  I  am  not  tired,"  she  answered,  rather  scornfully; 
"  I'm  very  strong." 

"  But  you  are  lonely,"  I  said,  "  I  wish  we  had 
brought  Jean  with  us."  Then  casting  about  in  my 
mind  for  some  more  available  resource  to  offer  her, 
I  asked  impulsively:  "Would  you  like  to  go  duck 
shooting  this  afternoon  with  Thomas  and  me? 
Jean  goes  with  me  sometimes." 

"  I  would  like  it,  but  I  cannot  go." 

"And  why  not?" 

"  My  Aunt  Martha  says  that  girls  should  be  sat- 
isfied to  keep  busy  within  doors.  I  am  to  learn  to 
spin,  and  to  weave,  and  then  I'll  not  have  time  to 
get  lonesome,  she  says." 

"  Do  you  not  know  how  to  spin  and  weave,  Ellen? 
Why,  even  Jean  can  spin,  and  she's  but  thirteen,"  put 
in  Thomas. 

"  My  mother  did  not  make  me  do  the  things  I 
detested,"  answered  Ellen  with  a  flash  of  her  eyes 
toward  Thomas;  then  to  me,  with  some  show  of  in- 
terest, "  Who  is  Jean?  " 

"  My  little  sister.  What  do  you  like  to  do, 
Cousin  Ellen?  " 

"  Nothing  that's  useful." 

"  Then  what  sort  of  play  do  you  like  ?  " 

"  To  shoot,  to  climb,  to  swim,  to  chop  wood,  to 
drive  sheep  and  to  read." 


32  DONALD  MCELROY 

I  opened  my  eyes  wide,  I  suppose,  for  I  never 
heard  of  a  girl  who  liked  such  things.  "  And  you 
can  do  these  things?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  my  father  taught  me,  and  my  mother  said 
I  needed  outdoor  life  to  make  me  strong,  and  at 
night  my  father  would  read  to  us,  or  else  my  mother 
would  teach  me." 

"  But  you  may  like  to  spin;  Jean  does." 

"  No;  I  shall  hate  everything  I  have  to  do  here; 
I  would  rather  have  died  than  to  have  come."  As 
she  said  this  I  noticed  a  singular  quality  in  her  voice, 
though  not  until  afterwards  did  I  analyze  it.  There 
was  a  sort  of  tremor  in  certain  tones,  though  tremor 
is,  perhaps,  too  strong  a  word,  since  it  was  rather 
the  suggestion  of  a  harp-like  vibration. —  like  the 
faintest  echo  of  a  sob. 

"  I  wish  I  might  have  died  when  my  mother  did," 
she  continued,  with  rising  passion.  "  Why  did  God 
leave  me  alone  in  the  world  with  no  one  to  lave 
me?"  and  the  strange  child  burst  into  a  storm  of 
weeping,  and  ran  out  of  the  room,  her  face  hidden 
by  her  arm,  her  slight  body  shaken  by  sobs. 

"Isn't  she  queer,  Don?"  said  Thomas,  while 
Aunt  Martha  came  from  the  room  to  inquire  what 
was  the  matter,  followed  by  my  mother  and  grand- 
mother. 

"  O,  'twas  Ellen,"  I  explained,  making  as  light  of 
the  matter  as  possible;  u  she  was  answering  our  ques- 
tions, and  spoke  of  her  mother,  which  started  her  to 
crying." 

"  Poor  child!  "  said  my  mother;  "  I  do  not  won- 
der she  is  unhappy,  having  so  recently  lost  both  her 
parents." 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  33 

"  She  is  by  no  means  humbled  by  her  afflictions, 
nor  does  she  seem  ever  to  have  been  taught  respect 
and  obedience,"  replied  Aunt  Martha.  "  Last  night 
I  stayed  in  her  room  to  see  that  she  said  her  prayers, 
and  when  she  kneeled  down  she  began  to  count  the 
beads  about  her  neck  and  to  kiss  the  crucifix  hung 
to  them.  I  called  her  to  me,  and  asked  her  if  she 
did  not  know  they  were  idolatrous  symbols,  that  she 
was  breaking  the  second  commandment  in  using 
them,  and  that  she  ought  to  pray  to  the  unseen  God 
rather  than  to  a  wooden  cross;  and  then  I  bade  her 
give  me  the  beads  that  I  might  put  it  out  of  her 
power  to  sin  in  that  way  again.  But  she  refused 
to  give  them  up,  said  they  were  the  last  thing  her 
mother  had  kissed,  and  that  her  father  had  told  her 
to  say  her  prayers  to  them  every  day;  then  she 
grew  violent  and  said  she  would  part  with  them 
only  with  her  life.  I  took  her  to  her  Uncle  Thomas 
this  morning,  and  urged  him  to  remonstrate  with 
her,  but  she  again  became  angry  and  wept  and 
stormed  till  Thomas  bade  me  let  the  child's  beads 
alone;  since  they  were  the  gift  of  her  dead  par- 
ents, he  could  not  see  how  they  could  do  her  harm, 
even  though  she  did  attach  a  superstitious  impor- 
tance to  them.  So  you  see,  mother,  that  already 
this  Irish  girl  is  bringing  trouble  to  my  house- 
hold, as  I  was  forewarned  she  would.  Last  night 
was  the  first  time  I  have  ever  heard  Thomas  say  a 
word  in  favor  of  idolatry,  and  not  for  months  has 
he  spoken  to  me  so  sternly." 

"  But,  Martha,  you  dinna  use  due  discretion  with 
the  child,"  said  my  grandmother;  "  couldna  you  hae 
waited  till  she  hae  gotten  used  to  her  new  surround- 


34  DONALD  McELROY 

ings,  an'  her  grief  for  her  parents  had  some  abated, 
afore  you  began  to  abuse  her  religion?  You  will 
soon  hae  the  child  set  in  stubborn  defiance,  at  this 
rate;  hae  na'  I  told  you  that  ne'er  yet  micht  an  O'Niel 
be  driven  —  that  they  wad  be  easier  led  to  hell,  than 
driven  to  heaven?  " 

"  Such  language  sounds  irreverent  to  me,  mother," 
Aunt  Martha  replied,  with  her  most  pious  air,  "  and 
if  that  is  the  character  of  the  O'Niels  they  must  be 
a  stiff  necked  people.  In  my  opinion  anyone  should 
be  grateful  to  be  driven  in  the  right  way.  But,  be 
that  as  it  may,  I  cannot  risk  the  effect  of  an  idola- 
trous example  upon  my  own  children,  even  could  I 
bring  myself  to  tolerate  such  practices  in  my  house. 
If  Ellen  persists  in  saying  prayers  to  her  beads  she 
must  do  so  without  my  knowledge  or  consent,  and  I 
shall  consider  it  my  duty  to  speak  out  against  such 
practices  whenever  the  opportunity  is  afforded." 

"  Well,  Martha,  you  maun  need  take  your  ain 
way,  and  reap  the  fruit  of  it,"  said  my  grandmother, 
in  her  sharpest  tone;  and  my  mother  as  usual  rushed 
in  with  soothing  words,  diverting  the  conversation 
into  smoother  channels,  by  further  laudation  of  the 
beauty  of  the  table  linens  they  were  already  begin- 
ning to  hem. 

Ellen  did  not  come  into  dinner,  and  no  one  ap- 
peared to  notice  her  absence,  though  Uncle  Thomas 
watched  the  door,  I  thought.  After  dinner  I  took 
my  rifle  on  my  shoulder,  and  went  down  to  the  cane- 
brake  where  I  hoped  to  find  a  flock  of  wild  ducks. 
Thomas  had  been  sent  by  his  father  with  more  seed 
to  the  fields,  where  the  men  were  sowing  wheat,  so 
could  not  go  with  me.  I  went  by  the  dining  room, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  35 

and  found  platters  of  wheaten  bread,  and  spice  cake 
still  on  the  side  table  with  which  I  filled  my  pockets, 
for  my  appetite  would  be  as  hearty  as  ever  in  three 
hours,  and  I  might  need  bait  for  the  ducks. 

My  way  lay  under  a  sycamore  tree,  on  the  edge 
of  the  creek  behind  the  barn,  and  as  I  stooped  to 
pass  beneath  a  low  bough,  something  jumped  from 
a  branch  just  before  me.  I  raised  my  head  quickly, 
and  saw  the  child,  Ellen,  standing  in  the  path. 

"  May  I  go  hunting  with  you,  now?"  she  said, 
eagerly.  "  You  asked  me  this  morning,  so  I 
brought  my  bonnet,  and  I  have  been  watching  for 
you." 

"  But  you've  had  no  dinner." 

"  I'm  not  hungry,  and  I  can't  eat  when  she  looks 
at  me." 

"Who?" 

"  The  one  I  must  call  Aunt  Martha;  do  you  like 
her?" 

"  Well,  I  never  thought  about  it,  much,  but  I  don't 
believe  I  am  as  fond  of  her  as  I  ought  to  be." 

"  Ought  to  be, —  why  ?  " 

"  She  is  my  real  blood  aunt,  you  know  —  my 
mother's  sister." 

"  That's  nothing.  She's  hateful,  just  as  much  as 
if  she  weren't  —  this  morning  she  stole  my  crucifix 
—  I  left  it  on  my  dresser,  and  it's  gone.  O,  I  know 
she  stole  it !  " 

"  Don't  let's  talk  about  that  now,"  I  said,  "  but  sit 
down  here  and  have  lunch  together.  I'm  hungry 
still,  though  I've  had  my  dinner."  This  was  not 
strictly  true,  but  I  managed  to  eat  enough  to  keep 
her  at  it  till  I  thought  she  was  satisfied,  and  then  I 


36  DONALD  McELROY 

bade  her  follow  me,  and  not  to  let  me  walk  too  fast 
for  her. 

She  scouted  the  idea,  saying:  "  My  father  was 
tall,  like  you,  and  walked  fast  always,  and  he  never 
had  to  wait  for  me." 

She  kept  up  without  seeming  to  try,  and  helped 
me  to  pile  brush  for  a  blind  on  the  edge  of  the  brake, 
keeping  as  still  as  possible  when  we  were  hidden  be- 
hind it. 

A  flock  rose  presently,  and  flew  straight  over  our 
heads  toward  the  river.  I  took  aim,  brought  down 
one,  then  loaded  quickly,  and  hit  a  second,  as  the 
flock  circled,  calling  noisily  to  each  other. 

Ellen  ran  fleetly  into  the  marshy  grass,  and 
brought  both  of  the  dead  ducks  to  me. 

"  I  wish  you  had  two  rifles  with  you,"  she  said,  her 
eyes  shining  with  excitement.  "  I  might  be  loading 
one,  while  you  shoot  the  other." 

I  smiled  at  her  enthusiasm.  "  The  next  flock  that 
rises  is  yours,"  I  said,  "  I  want  to  see  how  well  you 
can  aim." 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  we  again  heard  a  whir- 
ring in  the  brake,  and  this  time  the  flock  flew  low, 
and  between  us  and  the  river,  affording  Ellen  a  fine 
chance.  She  waited  with  a  coolness  that  surprised 
me,  then  took  careful  aim  and  shot  the  leader. 

"  Well  done!  "  I  said,  seizing  the  gun  to  reload, 
and  getting  it  ready  to  pick  off  one  of  the  scattered 
flock  before  they  could  all  get  back  into  the  brake. 

By  the  time  the  light  began  to  fail  we  had  six 
ducks,  two  of  which  Ellen  had  killed.  Already  we 
were  good  friends,  and  the  child  looked  so  happy,  as 
she  tripped  lightly  beside  me,  that  I  could  not  be- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  37 

lieve  that  she  would  ever  again  seem  to  me  sullen 
and  forbidding  as  she  had  that  morning. 

"  It's  a  pity  you're  a  girl,  Ellen,"  with  the  patron- 
izing air  of  a  youth  of  nineteen. 

"I  wish  I  were  a  boy!"  with  a  profound  sigh; 
"  I'd  live  in  the  woods,  and  eat  roots,  berries,  and 
game;  I'd  never  have  to  weave  and  spin  for  my 
keep,  then.  Why  must  I  wear  skirts  and  live  in 
the  house  just  because  I'm  a  girl,  Cousin  Donald?  " 

"  I'm  not  sure  I  can  give  a  better  answer  than 
the  one  Aunt  Martha  would  likely  make  you.  God 
fixed  it  that  way.  He  meant  women  for  the  home, 
and  men  for  the  fields  and  for  war.  There's  one 
good  thing,  maybe,  about  being  a  girl  —  that  is, 
some  persons  might  think  it  a  compensation, —  you 
will  never  have  to  fight,  or  go  to  war." 

"  I  think  fighting  would  be  fine,  a  heap  more  fun 
than  staying  at  home  and  hearing  about  it.  Don't 
women  ever  go  to  war?  " 

"  Of  course  not,  child,  though  in  this  valley  they 
have  more  than  once  helped  to  fight  Indians." 

"  I  do  wish  I  were  a  boy,"  she  repeated,  "  or  I'd 
like  better  still  to  be  a  splendid,  big  man  like  you." 

This  flattery,  whether  intentional  or  not,  had  its 
effect  upon  me,  and  I  constituted  myself  Ellen's 
champion  from  that  moment.  When  we  reached 
the  house  I  marched  boldly  in  with  her  to  Aunt  Mar- 
tha, and  after  announcing  that  I  had  taken  the  child 
to  the  river  to  pick  up  ducks  for  me,  made  Aunt 
Martha  a  peace  offering  of  half  of  them. 


453986 


CHAPTER  IV 

My  father  had  destined  me  for  a  lawyer,  there 
being  at  that  time  need  for  one  in  our  valley  —  a 
fact  which  sounds  strangely  now,  when  knights  of 
quill  and  ink  horn  are  everywhere  so  numerous.  An 
accumulation  of  legal  lore  requiring,  as  was  then 
thought,  the  deep  laid  foundation  of  a  thorough 
classical  education,  I  was  sent,  after  old  David  Ram- 
sey had  imparted  to  me  such  measure  of  his  learn- 
ing as  his  failing  powers  permitted,  to  the  Augusta 
Academy,  to  continue  my  Greek  and  Latin,  while  at 
the  same  time  I  read  Coke  and  Blackstone,  and 
practiced  on  legal  forms. 

We  had  just  begun  a  second  session  of  eleven 
months,  and  I  flattered  myself  I  was  making  some 
progress  in  comprehending  the  great  underlying  prin- 
ciples of  law,  as  well  as  in  unlearning  certain  faults 
of  pronunciation  and  scanning  acquired  under  old 
David,  when  my  studies  encountered  a  sudden  inter- 
ruption in  an  event  whose  influence  upon  my  after 
life  was  of  sufficient  importance  to  justify  me  in 
briefly  recording  it. 

The  class  room  that  August  afternoon  was  hot  and 
buzzing,  and  most  of  the  lads  in  the  Greek  class 
awaited  the  coming  of  the  master  with  a  sort  of 
drowsy  impatience,  while  a  few  bent  their  eyes  upon 
well  thumbed  books,  and  read  the  coming  lesson  over 
greedily,  hoping  to  make  up  for  previous  neglect  by 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  39 

diligent  use  of  an  unexpected  respite.  When  the 
master  did  come,  he  had  an  absent  and  very  serious 
look  upon  his  face,  and  he  heard  us  recite  with  sur- 
prising indifference  to  mistakes.  We  knew  intui- 
tively that  he  held  something  in  waiting,  to  tell  us  as 
soon  as  the  lesson  should  be  over,  and  a  subdued  in- 
ward excitement  quickly  counteracted  our  drowsi- 
ness. 

After  the  last  line  had  been  recited,  he  got  on  his 
feet,  his  tall  gaunt  figure,  stern  mouth  and  Roman 
nose  more  impressive  than  usual,  and  told  us,  as 
quietly  as  if  he  were  announcing  the  next  day's  les- 
son, that  news  had  been  received  of  a  confederated 
rising  of  the  Indians  in  the  Ohio  Valley,  and  that 
Colonel  Lewis  had  been  ordered  to  call  out  the 
militia,  to  enlist  volunteers,  and  to  march  to  the 
frontier  to  meet  the  savages.  He,  the  master,  being 
a  militia  man,  was  in  duty  bound  to  go,  and  as  it  was 
but  two  days  to  the  one  set  for  the  mustering,  he 
would  not  meet  his  class  again  until  his  return  —  if 
it  should  be  God's  will  to  spare  his  life  and  liberty, 
and  allow  him  to  come  back  to  more  peaceful  pur- 
suits. Meantime,  he  hoped  we  would  not  neglect 
our  studies,  or  grow  careless  of  our  duty  to  our  par- 
ents, and  our  country.  That  duty,  at  present,  was 
to  train  our  minds  by  constant  exercise,  and  to  fill 
our  brains  with  varied  knowledge,  that  we  might  be- 
come useful  and  honored  citizens  in  a  commonwealth, 
standing  upon  the  threshold  of  a  future  which  prom- 
ised to  be  one  of  glorious  and  continued  progress. 
Then  he  bade  us  good-by  feelingly,  and  left  us,  each 
one  envying  him  his  chance  of  adventure  and  danger, 
and  each  sheepishly  conscious  of  tears  in  his  eyes. 


40  DONALD  McELROY 

A  moment  later  I  made  a  sudden  but  resolute  de- 
cision, and  having  put  my  books,  desk,  and  other 
school  belongings  in  the  care  of  a  fellow  student, 
struck  out  across  the  fields,  and  walked  the  twelve 
miles  to  the  home  stile  by  sunset. 

"  Father,"  I  said,  before  he  had  time  to  express 
astonishment,  "  I  am  going  with  Colonel  Lewis  to 
whip  the  Indians." 

The  day  after  the  next,  my  father  accompanied 
me  to  the  mustering,  and  gave  full  consent  to  my 
enlistment  for  the  campaign. 

The  long  march  we  made  through  an  almost 
trackless  wilderness,  and  the  effectual  check  we  gave 
Cornstalk  and  his  warriors,  are,  now,  facts  of  his- 
tory, and  since  they  in  no  way  serve  to  help  on  my 
story,  I  must  resist  the  temptation  to  dwell  upon 
our  brief  campaign.  I  cannot  even  stop  to  point 
out  convincingly  the  far  reaching  and  most  impor- 
tant consequences  to  the  cause  growing  out  of  this 
victory.  But  this  much  of  a  digression  must  be  for- 
given me  —  though  my  story  halts  while  I  say  it. 

Had  not  the  strength  and  confidence  of  the  Shaw- 
nees,  and  the  tribes  confederated  with  them,  been 
shaken  at  Point  Pleasant,  and  the  prestige  and  influ- 
ence of  the  brave  and  capable  Cornstalk  destroyed, 
the  Indians  would,  doubtless  months  before,  have 
made  impossible  that  intrepid  defiance  of  Washing- 
ton, the  memory  of  which  we  Scotch  Irish  cherish 
with  so  much  pride :  —  that  he  would  never  surren- 
der but  if  driven  to  bay  would  make  a  last  stand  in 
the  mountain  fastnesses  of  Augusta;  and,  rallying  to 
his  aid  those  brave  pioneers,  yet  bid  defiance  to  the 
enemy  and  hope  to  pluck  victory  from  apparent  de- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  41 

feat.  Nor,  had  there  been  no  battle  of  Point  Pleas- 
ant, would  a  dauntless  rifle  company  have  been 
available  for  service  under  the  gallant  Morgan,  to 
march  to  Quebec,  to  win  the  decisive  battle  at  Free- 
man Farm,  and  the  telling  victories  of  King's  Moun- 
tain and  of  Cowpens. 

Returned  from  the  Ohio,  I  went  back  to  my  books, 
but  I  could  not  settle  down  contentedly  to  Latin  odes 
and  Greek  classics.  The  excitement  of  the  march, 
the  battle,  and  the  victory,  had  aroused  within  me  a 
sleeping  aptitude  for  the  life  of  a  soldier,  and  I 
chafed  at  the  prospect  of  a  safe  and  uneventful 
career. 

At  Christmas  I  had  two  weeks'  holiday,  and  what 
time  I  was  not  tracking  game  in  the  snow,  was  spent 
breaking  the  colts  to  the  cutter,  or  coasting  on  a 
plank  down  the  steepest  hills  to  be  found,  with  Jean 
and  Ellen  O'Niel  behind  me.  My  grandmother, 
who  did  not  share  the  universal  disapproval  of  the 
Irish  child's  "  defiant  spirit,"  had  persuaded  my 
mother  to  have  Ellen  over  to  spend  the  holidays 
with  Jean,  using  the  adroit  argument,  with  both  my 
mother  and  Aunt  Martha,  that  Jean's  gentle  and 
tractable  spirit  might  have  a  good  influence  over  the 
untamed  Ellen.  She  had  come,  but  not  very  gra- 
ciously, and  sat  silent  among  us,  for  the  first  day  and 
evening,  looking  sullen  and  unhappy. 

Few  could  resist,  however,  the  contagion  of  our 
kindly  home  atmosphere,  and  by  the  second  morn- 
ing, Ellen  had  melted  sufficiently  to  smile  at  grand- 
mother's quaint  jokes  and  stories  of  Ireland.  By 
dinner  time  she  was  ready  to  listen  with  interest  to 


42  DONALD  MCELROY 

some  of  my  father's  pioneer  experiences,  and  that 
night  when  mother  bade  me  give  her  a  relation  of 
my  fight  with  the  panther,  she  listened  with  flushed 
cheeks  and  shining  eyes.  We  were  by  this  time 
drawn  in  the  usual  family  circle  about  the  glowing 
fireplace,  from  which  roasting  apples  and  chestnuts 
were  sending  forth  a  rich  odor.  Mother  sat  in  her 
special  corner,  her  head  resting  against  the  panther's 
skin,  and  father  sat  beside  her,  grandmother  oppo- 
site, and  I  near  her  on  the  settle,  while  Jean  nestled 
close  to  me.  Thomas,  who  occupied  the  other  end 
of  the  settle,  wore  a  radiant  face,  for  he  enjoyed 
the  absence  of  restraint  which  he  found  nowhere  but 
with  us,  and  all  the  sullen  reserve  was  gone  from 
Ellen's  countenance. 

Presently  Ellen,  who  so  far  had  deigned  only  to 
answer  us,  began  to  talk.  At  first  she  barely  asked 
a  question  into  which  interest  or  surprise  had  be- 
trayed her,  or  made  an  occasional  impulsive  remark. 
But,  as  her  reserve  melted  in  the  genial  and  sympa- 
thetic atmosphere,  the  sluice  gates  of  pent  up  mem- 
ories seemed  suddenly  to  open,  and  she  talked  freely, 
relating  anecdotes  and  reminiscences  of  her  child- 
hood, and  showing  a  depth  and  warmth  of  emo- 
tion which  surprised  us.  These  led  her  on  to  re- 
peat some  of  the  stories  her  father  had  read  or  told 
to  her.  They  were  chiefly  tales  from  Shakespeare's 
"  Tempest,"  "  Winter's  Tale,"  "  Hamlet,"  and  oth- 
ers of  the  more  fantastical  and  tragic  of  these 
dramas.  None  of  her  listeners  had  read  them,  then, 
though  I  had  heard  of  Shakespeare,  the  great  Eng- 
lish playwright.  We  were  all  charmed,  as  much, 
perhaps,  by  the  flashing  expressions  of  intelligence 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  43 

and  feeling  which  transformed  Ellen's  face  into  one 
almost  of  beauty,  as  by  the  stories  themselves. 
Moreover  that  emotional  quality  of  her  voice,  so 
prone  to  subtle  vibrations,  added  a  special  charm  to 
all  she  said. 

"  Now,  Donald,"  said  my  father,  when  Ellen 
seemed  to  have  spent  her  present  memories,  and 
had  lapsed  into  her  usual  quiet,  "  get  your  fiddle,  and 
let's  have  a  tune." 

Jean  ran  at  once  to  bring  my  violin,  and  I  did 
my  best  to  add  my  share  of  entertainment  to  the 
evening's  innocent  pleasures. 

"  Ellen  can  sing  sweeter  than  a  lark,  or  a  red 
bird,"  said  Thomas,  as  I  paused  to  rest  my  arm. 

"  Can  she?  "  from  Jean  with  eager  delight.  "  I 
do  love  singing;  sing  for  us,  Ellen." 

"  I  can  sing  only  the  Irish  and  Scotch  ballads,  and 
the  Catholic  hymns  my  mother  used  to  sing,"  an- 
swered Ellen,  flushing.  "  I  do  not  know  the  solemn 
songs  you  people  sing,  and  I  shall  never  learn  them  " 
—  the  last  said  in  a  defiant  tone  which  the  occasion 
scarcely  called  for. 

"  Our  psalms  are  vera  sweet  an'  sacred  to  us,  my 
dear,"  remarked  my  grandmother,  with  no  apparent 
recognition  of  the  challenge  in  Ellen's  voice,  yet 
choosing  her  words  with  a  precision  that  was  evi- 
dence of  slight  displeasure,  "  but  we  like  aither  sangs 
too,  an'  sing  them  except  on  the  Sabbath.  I  love  the 
Scotch  and  Irish  ballads,  an'  though  you  hae  already 
done  your  share  aboot  making  the  evening  go  by 
pleasantly  for  us  a',  we'd  greatly  like  a  sang  or  twa, 
if  ye  dinna  mind  to  pleasure  us  further." 

"  It's  a  delight  to  please  you,   grandma,"   said 


44  DONALD  McELROY 

Ellen  impulsively,  and  she  rose  from  her  chair, 
slipped  behind  the  settle  and  dropped  upon  the  floor 
beside  grandmother,  kissing  as  she  did  so,  one  of  the 
soft,  wrinkled  hands  folded  in  her  lap.  Then,  rest- 
ing her  head  against  grandmother's  knee,  she  fixed 
her  eyes  upon  the  dancing  flames,  and  began  to  sing 
somewhat  unsteadily,  but  with  more  fullness  and  con- 
fidence, as  she  continued.  Her  voice  did  indeed 
soar  and  swell  like  a  redbird's,  and  she  threw  all 
her  heart  into  her  singing,  while  the  quaint  words 
of  the  old  ballads  slipped  meltingly  from  her  lips,  as 
drops  of  dew  from  the  petals  of  a  flower. 

"  Why,  my  dear,  I  hae  na'  been  up  sae  late  for 
years,"  remarked  grandmother,  in  a  tone  of  alarm 
as  the  clock  struck  midnight;  then  stroking  Ellen's 
hair,  which  was  growing  out  in  loose  curls,  "  You 
g'ie  us  mouch  pleasure,  dear,  but  it's  bedtime  now, 
for  a'.  Come,  Jean  and  Ellen!  Good  night  a', 
and  a  merry  Christmas  to  you." 

Not  only  were  cider  and  persimmon  beer  drawn 
from  the  full  barrels  in  the  cellar,  but  a  big  bowl 
of  apple  toddy  was  concocted  early  Christmas  morn- 
ing, and  flanked  by  plates  of  doughnuts,  and  ginger 
bread,  raisin  and  spiced  cake,  apples,  and  nuts,  sat 
upon  the  long  table  in  the  big  room,  all  day,  every 
one  being  free  to  eat  and  drink  his  fill.  This  cus- 
tom of  my  father,  which  usually  drew  to  our  house 
most  of  the  men  within  a  ten  mile  ride,  always  scan- 
dalized my  Aunt  Martha,  and  but  for  Uncle 
Thomas'  backing  we  would  never  have  gotten  Ellen 
and  Thomas  to  our  house  until  after  Christmas 
day.  Uncle  Thomas  himself  always  came,  however, 
and  on  this  occasion  Aunt  Martha  broke  her  rule  and 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  45 

came  with  him,  bringing  too  their  younger  son,  John. 

I  observed  a  change  come  over  Ellen's  face  as 
soon  as  Aunt  Martha  appeared  in  the  doorway;  she 
seemed  to  draw  within  herself,  and  her  face  took  on 
the  sullen  expression  which  so  marred  its  comeliness, 
and  presently  when  I  looked  about  for  her,  she  was 
nowhere  to  be  found. 

"  Ah,  Rachael,"  said  Aunt  Martha,  glancing  to- 
ward the  laden  table  between  the  two  southern  win- 
dows, and  shaking  her  head  in  solemn  disapproval, 
"  I  see  you  have  not  yet  been  able  to  persuade  Wil- 
liam of  the  sinfulness  of  this  habit  of  his,  of  offering 
the  intoxicating  cup  to  all  comers,  at  this  season. 
Strange  perversion,  that  this  holy  Christ  festival 
should  be  turned  into  an  occasion  for  gluttony  and 
rioting." 

"  William  has  his  own  ideas,  Martha,  and  I  do 
not  set  mine  against  him,"  I  heard  my  mother  an- 
swer, from  the  doorway,  as  she  followed  my  aunt 
into  the  bedroom.  "The  neighbor  gentlemen  will 
all  be  in  presently,  and  a  warming  cup  will  be  needed 
by  those  who  do  not  stay  to  dinner." 

"  You  are  too  meek  with  William,  Rachael,  and 
so  fail  of  due  influence.  Wifely  obedience  is  com- 
manded in  the  Bible,  it  is  true,  but  I  do  not  think 
the  sacrifice  of  our  principles  is  required." 

"  Preaching  still,  eh,  Martha  — "  called  my 
father's  cheery  voice  from  the  big  room,  having 
come  in  to  put  another  log  upon  the  roaring  pile; 
"  well,  you'll  have  to  stop  now,  for  I  see  Justices  Mc- 
Dowell and  Willson  riding  up,  and,  as  you  know, 
we  like  not  solemn  faces  in  this  house  on  Christmas 
day,"  and  he  hurried  out  again  to  meet  his  guests, 


46  DONALD  MCELROY 

before  Aunt  Martha  was  sufficiently  recovered 
from  her  indignant  surprise  to  make  him  proper 
answer. 

The  ensuing  hour  brought  a  dozen  others,  the 
most  substantial  freeholders  in  the  community, 
nearly  all  of  them  members  of  the  church,  as  well 
as  men  of  influence  in  public  affairs.  A  few  drank 
only  cider  or  beer,  but  most  of  them  quaffed  full 
cups  of  the  spiced,  apple-seasoned  toddy  with  evi- 
dent appreciation,  and  ate  the  cakes,  apples  and  nuts 
without  stint. 

I  sat  about  the  fire  with  the  men,  proud  of  my 
privilege,  but  mother  and  Aunt  Martha,  after  cere- 
monious greetings  were  exchanged,  retired,  as  was 
customary  for  women  when  several  men  were  met 
together.  The  talk  was  animated,  and  at  times  ex- 
citing, though  there  was  but  small  difference  of  opin- 
ion among  them.  The  Boston  massacre,  and  recent 
unjust  restrictions  upon  our  commerce,  were  indig- 
nantly condemned,  and  the  determined  spirit  of  the 
colonists  of  Massachusetts  warmly  commended. 
Presently  it  was  proposed  by  Justice  Willson,  and 
warmly  seconded  by  my  father,  that  the  citizens  of 
Augusta  County,  or  a  committee  elected  by  them, 
should  draw  up  resolutions  to  be  sent  to  the  Virginia 
assembly,  expressing  with  no  uncertain  sound  their 
fixed  determination  not  to  submit  to  tyranny,  and  to 
sustain  Massachusetts  in  her  noble  stand  against  in- 
justice and  oppression  at  every  hazard.  In  truth 
the  leaders  of  the  New  England  "  Town  Meeting," 
could  not  have  shown  more  fervor  nor  more  deter- 
mination than  these  representative  men  of  this  Scotch 
Irish  settlement  in  the  Virginia  mountains.  The  dis- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  47 

cussion  was  unabated  still,  and  not  a  man  had  sug- 
gested returning  home,  when  my  mother  announced 
dinner.  The  table  had  been  lengthened  to  its  ut- 
most, by  raising  all  its  "  wings  "  and  putting  the  side 
tables  at  either  end;  but  there  was  still  no  seat  for 
me,  so  I  wandered  into  my  mother's  room,  and  then 
across  the  yard  to  the  kitchen  to  look  for  Jean  and 
Ellen.  Jean,  and  John  Mitchell  I  found,  eating 
turkey  livers,  gravy  and  potatoes  before  the  embers, 
over  which  hung  the  now  idle  cranes,  and  Thomas 
was  mending  John's  sled  at  the  work  bench  in  the 
back  kitchen.  But  Ellen  was  not  to  be  found,  and  no 
one  had  seen  her  for  two  hours.  Returning  to  the 
house,  I  mounted  the  steps  to  the  room  under  the 
gable,  where  grandma  and  Jean  slept,  and  there 
found  Ellen,  wrapped  in  a  blanket,  and  lying  prone 
on  the  floor  in  the  stream  of  sunshine  pouring 
through  the  western  window.  Her  chin  was  sup- 
ported by  her  hands  and  an  open  book  lay  before 
her. 

"  Are  you  hiding  from  Aunt  Martha,  Ellen?  "  I 
asked  teasingly. 

"  I  slipped  away  while  she  was  helping  your 
mother  set  table,"  she  answered,  "  and  stole  up  here 
to  read.  I  don't  often  get  a  chance;  your  Aunt 
Martha  keeps  me  at  work  from  sun  up  till  dark,  and 
then  sends  me  to  bed.  She  says  it  is  a  wicked  waste 
of  time  to  read  anything  but  one's  Bible  —  and  the 
holy  father  in  Baltimore  told  me  that  the  way  Prot- 
estants presumed  to  read  the  sacred  book,  and  deter- 
mine for  themselves  its  sacred  meaning  is  blasphe- 
mous." 

"  What  book  are  you  reading?  "  I  asked. 


48  DONALD  McELROY 

"  One  of  the  Shakespeare  books  my  father  gave 
me.  I  have  six  more  like  it,"  and  she  held  up  to  my 
view  a  small  leather  bound  volume,  a  good  deal  the 
worse  for  wear.  "  I  slipped  it  into  my  satchel  when 
Aunt  Martha  sent  me  up  stairs  to  get  my  things, 
the  morning  you  came  for  us,  but  please  don't  tell 
her,  Cousin  Donald  —  she  said  she'd  take  the  books 
away  from  me  if  she  saw  me  reading  them  again, 
for  they  were  not  fit  reading  for  me,  and  I  had  no 
time  to  waste  on  them." 

"  How  did  she  know  they  were  not  fit  reading  for 
you?  "  I  asked,  curious  to  learn  if  Aunt  Martha  had 
stopped  work  long  enough  to  examine  a  book. 

"  She  made  Uncle  Thomas  read  some  out  of  one 
of  the  volumes  to  her,"  answered  Ellen,  smiling  in 
response  to  my  thought.  "And  she  said,  at  break- 
fast table  next  morning,  that  a  great  deal  of  it  had 
neither  sense  nor  meaning,  and  the  part  she  could 
understand  was  about  fighting  and  killing,  or  else 
foolish  love  stuff  —  all  of  it  unfit  for  any  young 
person  to  hear.  She  wanted  to  burn  my  books,  as 
she  did  my  crucifix,  but  I  ran  and  hid  them,  and  cried 
so,  all  day,  that  Uncle  Thomas  said  'Let  the  child's 
books  alone,  Martha;  her  father  gave  them  to  her; 
if  they  harm  her  it's  no  fault  of  yours.'  " 

"  Is  the  reading  as  good  as  your  telling  of  the 
stories,  Ellen?" 

"  Oh,  so  much  nicer.  There  are  beautiful  things 
I  could  never  say;  listen,"  and  she  read  me  a  passage 
from  "  Romeo  and  Juliet."  "  Isn't  that  like  music? 
The  very  words  have  a  tune  to  them  without  think- 
ing of  the  meaning  even." 

"  Could  you  lend  me  the  book  to  read  while  you 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  49 

are  here,  Ellen?  or  to-morrow,  if  you  will,  we'll  come 
up  here  and  you  shall  read  aloud  to  me." 

"  But  your  mother  and  father  might  find  out,  and 
tell  Aunt  Martha." 

"  We  need  not  conceal  our  reading  from  them; 
they  will  make  no  objection  if  I  tell  them  the  book 
is  harmless  —  and  I  suppose  it  is,  even  for  girls.  I 
know  it  is  a  famous  book  and  counted  among  the 
English  classics.  I've  always  meant  to  read  it  some 
day." 

"  And  I'll  lend  you  the  other  volumes,  one  by 
one,  if  you'll  take  me  bear  hunting  the  next  time 
you  find  a  track,"  added  Ellen. 

"  That's  a  bargain,  if  my  mother  will  let  you  go. 
How  old  are  you,  Ellen?  " 

"  I  shall  be  sixteen  my  next  birthday." 

"  And  when  is  that?  " 

"  Next  November." 

"  Then  you  are  just  fifteen." 

"  Fifteen  and  two  months,"  she  corrected. 

"  That  is  young  for  you  to  have  read  Shakes- 
peare, and  to  be  capable  of  appreciating  him.  Your 
father  taught  you  so  carefully,  and  read  to  you  so 
much  because  he  had  no  sons,  I  suppose." 

"  Perhaps;  he  used  often  to  wish  I  were  a  boy. 
He  used  to  say  I  was  so  strong,  and  tall,  and  had 
more  sense  than  most  women;  and  when  he  was 
taken  sick,  after  mother's  death,  he  said  every  few 
hours  — '  Oh  if  you  were  only  a  boy,  Ellen,  I  would 
not  mind  so  much  leaving  you  alone  in  the  world; 
you  could  soon  be  independent  then,  and  make  your 
own  way !  '  ' 

"  'Tis  a  pity,  Ellen;  you'd  make  a  good  man,  I'm 


50  DONALD  McELROY 

sure.  You  are  as  strong  now  as  a  boy  of  your  age 
is  likely  to  be,  and  half  a  head  taller  than  John  who 
is  but  six  months  younger." 

"  I  dared  John  to  a  wrestle,  one  day  in  the  barn, 
and  threw  him,"  laughed  Ellen,  "  but  I  promised  not 
to  tell,  and  you  must  not  twit  him  about  it." 

"All  right,  I  won't;  but  were  I  John  I'd  keep 
on  challenging  you  till  I  had  proved  my  superior 
strength;  no  girl  should  throw  me!  Does  Aunt 
Martha  know?  " 

"  Of  course  not,  Donald.  Already  she  calls  me  a 
hoyden,  and  an  untamed  Irish  girl  —  which  I  am,  the 
last  I  mean,  and  proud  of  it.  Did  she  hear  of  my 
wrestling  with  John,  the  bread  and  water  she  threat- 
ens me  with  would  be  my  only  diet  for  a  week." 

"  You'll  not  have  bread  and  water  diet  while  you 
are  here,  at  any  rate.  But  there's  my  mother  call- 
ing now;  my  mouth  waters  for  her  Christmas  din- 
ner, for  there's  no  better  served  in  the  neighborhood 
to-day,  I  warrant  you.  Come  on;  let's  go  down," 
and  I  put  the  little  book  in  my  pocket,  seized  Ellen 
by  the  hand  and  pulled  her  after  me,  pell-mell  down 
the  stairway  where  we  ran  straight  into  Aunt  Mar- 
tha. 

"  Ellen  O'Niel !  "  she  stopped  to  say,  fixing  a  stern 
eye  upon  her  — "  you  are  the  greatest  hoyden  I  have 
ever  seen.  I  thank  a  merciful  Providence  you  are 
not  my  daughter." 

"  Amen,  and  so  do  I,"  said  Ellen,  in  my  ear,  and 
as  Aunt  Martha  passed  into  the  next  room,  she 
turned  toward  me,  and  pulled  her  face  down  into 
the  most  comical  imitation  of  Aunt  Martha's  solemn 
countenance.  I  laughed  heartily,  though  in  truth  I 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  51 

did  not  approve  of  Ellen's  flippancy.  Reverence  for 
religion  and  respect  for  our  elders  were  among  the 
virtues  earliest  and  most  faithfully  instilled  into  the 
breasts  of  Scotch  Irish  children. 


CHAPTER  V 

"  Two  of  the  pigs  are  gone,  and  I  see  fresh  bear's 
tracks  behind  the  barn,  Ellen.  If  you  want  to  go 
after  the  beast  with  Thomas  and  me,  put  on  your 
heaviest  boots,  get  a  rifle  from  the  rack,  and  come 
on,"  and  I  spoke  with  a  degree  of  animation  which 
turned  upon  me  the  gaze  of  the  entire  family,  as- 
sembled at  the  breakfast  table.  I  was  not  then  so 
sated  a  huntsman  that  the  prospect  of  big  game 
could  fail  to  excite  me. 

"  Why,  Donald,  you  are  not  thinking  of  taking 
Ellen  bear  hunting  with  you?  " 

"And  why  not,  mother?  She  wishes  to  go,  she 
handles  a  rifle  well  enough,  and  there's  no  danger 
with  three  guns  against  one  poor  bear." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Rachael,  please  let  me  go;  I  have 
never  seen  a  bear,  and  it  must  be  beautiful  in  the 
forest  to-day." 

"  Might  as  well  let  her  go,  mother,"  put  in  my 
father;  "  the  boys  will  take  care  of  her,  and  it  will 
be  an  experience  she  will  like  to  tell  when  she  is  an 
old  woman.  Besides,  it  is  well  enough  for  her  to 
learn  courage  and  coolness  in  facing  danger  —  the 
women  in  this  valley  may  need  such  qualities  in  the 
future,  as  they  have  in  the  past." 

"  I  can't  see  why  you  care  to  go,"  said  little  Jean, 
shuddering  involuntarily,  her  brown  eyes  fixed  in 
amazement  upon  Ellen's  eager  countenance. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  53 

"  May  I  go,  Aunt  Rachael?  "  urged  Ellen. 

"  Well,  child,  I  suppose  so,  since  your  heart  seems 
set  upon  it.  Do  be  careful,  Donald,  and  get  back 
before  sundown." 

We  followed  the  print  of  the  bear's  feet  across 
the  meadow  behind  the  barn,  and  then  around  the 
curve  of  a  low  range  of  hills  to  the  edge  of  the  for- 
est, walking  Indian  file,  Ellen  between  us,  and  step- 
ping, as  I  bade  her,  in  my  tracks.  The  air  was  so 
crisp  and  buoyant  that  we  were  half  intoxicated  by 
long,  full  breaths  of  it,  and  went  skimming  over  the 
frozen  surface  as  if,  like  fabled  Mercury,  we  had 
wings  to  our  heels.  The  meadows  gleamed  and 
scintillated,  and  the  edge  of  the  hill's  undulating 
outline  shone  in  opalescent  lines,  as  if  the  prying 
rays  of  the  sun,  forcing  their  way  through  the  thin 
snow  clouds  at  the  eastern  horizon,  were  disclosing^ 
a  ledge  of  hidden  jewels.  The  world  all  about  us 
was  downy  soft,  radiantly  pure,  and  familiar  fields 
and  hills  took  on  a  strange  newness,  in  which  per- 
spective was  confused  and  outlines  blurred;  white 
fields  melted  into  white  hills,  hills  merged  into  white 
sky,  and  one  might,  it  seemed,  walk  out  of  this  world 
into  the  next  without  noting  the  point  of  transition. 

The  forest  was  stranger  still,  and  even  more  beau- 
tiful. There  was  but  little  snow  on  the  ground,  and 
the  dry  leaves  under  it  rustled  beneath  one's  feet 
with  homely,  cheerful  sound,  but  overhead  stretched 
a  marvelous  canopy  of  graceful  feather  laden 
branches,  each  giant  of  the  forest  being  powdered  as 
carefully  as  any  court  dame,  and,  like  her,  gaining 
a  sort  of  distinction  for  its  beauty  by  this  emphasis 
to  its  height  and  grace. 


54  DONALD  McELROY 

"  Am  I  walking  too  fast  for  you,  Ellen?  "  I  asked 
soon  after  we  had  started. 

"  No;  but  you  step  too  far,"  she  called  back  mer- 
rily. So  I  shortened  my  stride  a  little,  and  again 
insisted  on  carrying  her  rifle,  getting  this  time  her 
consent. 

"  The  forest  is  like  a  place  enchanted,"  said  Ellen 
with  rapt  face,  as  we  waited  at  the  edge  of  the 
woods  for  Thomas  to  catch  up.  "  How  warm  and 
snug  one  could  sleep  under  that  low  boughed  pine, 
yonder;  I'd  like  to  live  in  the  forest  were  there  no 
panthers,  wolves,  or  bears." 

"  But  the  beasts  have  possession,  and  sometimes 
I  almost  wonder  if  we  have  a  right  to  drive  them 
with  gun  and  knife  out  of  their  inherited  haunts." 

"  As  we  do  the  Indians." 

"  I  have  more  sympathy  for  wild  beasts  than  for 
the  red  savages;  the  beasts  are  not  treacherous,  nor 
cruel  for  sport." 

"Have  you  lost  the  bear's  track,  Don?"  inter- 
rupted Thomas;  "if  not,  what  are  you  stopping 
for?" 

"  We  are  admiring  the  forest  —  but  I  have  kept 
my  eye  on  the  track,  all  right.  There  it  goes  off  to 
the  left;  we'll  find  him,  I  suspect,  fast  asleep  in  some 
hollow  log." 

My  surmise  was  correct,  for  the  track  led  us  to 
a  large  fallen  tree  a  mile  within  the  forest.  The 
bear,  having  gorged  himself  on  the  pigs,  was  curled 
within  for  a  good  nap. 

"  We'll  have  to  smoke  him  out,"  said  Thomas, 
beginning  to  look  about  for  dried  leaves  and  twigs. 
We  piled  them  into  the  smaller  end  of  the  log,  and 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  55 

then  lit  them  with  our  tinder-boxes,  after  which  we 
stood  about  the  larger  opening  and  waited  watch- 
fully. 

"  You  shall  have  the  first  shot,  Ellen,"  I  said. 
"  Stand  a  little  to  one  side,  and  aim  either  at  his 
throat,  or  behind  one  of  his  ears." 

The  bear  could  not  stand  long  the  stifling  smoke 
of  the  pungent  leaves,  and  with  a  muffled  roar,  in- 
terrupted by  a  wheezing  cough,  he  backed  awk- 
wardly out  of  the  tree,  then  turned  to  look  about 
him  for  an  avenue  of  escape.  But  his  captors,  with 
ready  rifles,  stood  in  close  range  around  him,  and 
behind  him  burned  the  log,  its  murky  smoke  and 
lapping  blaze  limning  weirdly  the  beast's  shaggy 
bulk,  against  the  white  forest. 

"  Shoot,  Ellen !  "  I  called,  for  she  stood  as  if 
spellbound,  her  eyes  fixed  upon  the  crouching, 
growling  animal.  She  pulled  her  trigger  then,  but 
with  nerveless  fingers,  and  her  ball  whizzed  just 
above  the  bear's  head,  cutting  off  one-half  of  his 
right  ear.  With  a  roar  of  pain  the  furious  animal 
was  upon  her,  the  weight  of  his  huge  body  throwing 
her  down,  and  half  burying  her  in  the  snow.  For 
an  instant  my  brain  rocked  with  horror;  I  dared  not 
shoot,  for  I  could  not  distinguish  Ellen's  form  from 
the  bear's  in  the  cloud  of  flying  snow  which  sur- 
rounded them,  and  every  instant  I  feared  to  hear 
a  cry  of  agony,  and  the  crunching  of  Ellen's  skull 
between  the  creature's  iron  jaws. 

"I  must  risk  it,"  I  swiftly  concluded;  and  with 
quick  intake  of  my  breath,  I  raised  my  rifle  to  my 
shoulder,  stepped  back  a  pace,  and  took  the  aim  of 
my  life.  Providence  guided  the  ball,  which  severed 


56  DONALD  McELROY 

the  beast's  spinal  column  just  at  the  base  of  his 
brain.  In  another  instant  I  was  dragging  his  shud- 
dering bulk  from  Ellen's  body,  lest  he  crush  her  in 
the  death  struggle. 

Ellen  was  as  pallid  as  the  snow  she  lay  upon,  and 
as  motionless.  Her  long  lashes  made  a  light 
shadow  on  the  waxen  cheeks,  and  the  dark  ringlets 
dropping  over  the  brow  were  like  charcoal  by  con- 
trast with  its  marble.  When  I  lifted  her  head  upon 
my  arm,  I  saw  a  ragged  wound  upon  her  neck,  just 
behind  her  right  ear,  and  from  it  ran  trickling  a 
crimson  rill,  down  the  soft  throat  to  the  still  bosom. 
Her  clothes  were  torn  from  her  right  shoulder,  and 
there  the  flesh  showed  marks  of  the  animal's  teeth 
in  the  midst  of  an  ugly  bruise. 

Thomas  had  dropped  white  and  limp  upon  a  log, 
and,  great  boy  as  he  was,  began  to  cry. 

"  She's  dead,  Don,  she's  dead!  Oh,  why  did  we 
let  her  come  —  what  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  Hush,"  I  said  angrily;  "she's  not  dead,  only 
stunned,  I  hope,"  and  I  gathered  handfuls  of  snow, 
which  I  rubbed  gently  upon  her  forehead  and  cheek, 
and  then  forced  between  her  lips  a  few  drops  of  gin 
from  my  pocket  flask.  Seeing  that  she  swallowed 
the  gin  mechanically,  I  poured  a  good  spoonful  upon 
her  tongue,  and  chafed  her  hands  vigorously  till 
she  opened  her  eyes  and  recognized  the  faces  bend- 
ing over  her. 

"Where's  the  bear,  Donald?"  she  asked,  as 
quietly  as  if  she  had  just  wakened  from  a  vivid 
dream. 

"  Dead,"  I  answered  cheerfully;  "  you  shall  have 
the  skin  for  a  rug." 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  57 

"  But  I  didn't  kill  him,"  in  disappointed  tones. 
"  I  got  frightened  and  aimed  badly  —  I'd  never  do 
for  a  man,  after  all." 

"  You'd  make  a  better  man  than  Thomas;  he  be- 
gan to  cry  as  soon  as  he  saw  you  were  hurt,  and 
you  haven't  yet  complained  of  the  scratches  the  bear 
gave  you." 

"  They  sting  some,"  she  said  with  a  grimace,  put- 
ting her  hand  to  her  wound,  and  sliding  it  down  to 
her  shoulder.  "  Why,  Donald,  my  clothes  are 
torn,"  and  a  faint  flush  tinged  her  cheeks,  while  she 
tried  to  sit  up  and  to  pull  her  shredded  garment  to- 
gether. 

"  The  bear  bit  you  there;  it  is  well  mother  made 
you  put  on  this  buckskin  jacket  over  your  pelisse. 
Does  the  place  hurt  you  much?  "  and  I  knelt  beside 
her  to  examine  her  shoulder  more  carefully. 

"  It  aches,  while  the  hurt  on  my  neck  smarts," 
and  she  flushed  again,  and  shrank  from  the  touch  of 
my  fingers  on  her  bare  flesh. 

And  I,  too,  was  suddenly  embarrassed,  while  a 
new  thrill  went  through  me.  "  The  shoulder  bone 
is  not  crushed,"  I  said,  after  a  careful  examination 
which  gave  Ellen  some  pain,  "  nor  is  the  wound  very 
deep;  doubtless,  though,  it  will  hurt  a  good  deal, 
besides  making  your  shoulder  stiff  and  helpless  for 
a  while.  We  must  bandage  the  wound  somehow, 
till  we  can  get  home,  and  we  must  find  a  way  to 
exclude  the  cold  air  from  it." 

Thomas,  who  had  sat  by,  flushed  and  silent  since 
I  had  chidden  him  for  blubbering,  picked  up  the 
torn  jacket  I  had  stripped  from  Ellen's  shoulders, 
and  disappeared  behind  the  tree.  Presently  he  came 


58  DONALD  McELROY 

back  with  his  own  flannel  shirt  and  a  bunch  of  linen 
strips  across  his  arm,  himself  reclad  in  the  torn 
jacket,  which  had  been  pinned  together,  after  some 
sort,  with  small  thorns. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Thomas,"  I  said,  grasping 
his  hand  as  I  took  the  bandages  from  it. 

"  'Twas  the  sight  of  her  so  white  and  still,"  re- 
plied Thomas,  looking  yet  mortified  and  hurt. 

u  Thank  you,  dear  Thomas,"  said  Ellen,  smiling 
upon  him;  "your  tears  were  only  symptoms  of  a 
tender  heart.  I'm  glad  you  were  sorry  for  me; 
Donald  did  not  care  enough  to  cry." 

Now  that  was  very  unkind  of  Ellen,  for  I  had 
been  sick  with  fright  and  apprehension  for  her,  and 
would  have  rather  been  torn  in  pieces  by  the  beast, 
myself,  than  to  have  carried  home  in  my  arms  that 
still,  white  form.  But  I  made  no  response  to  Ellen's 
accusation;  I  only  set  my  lips,  and  plastered  and 
bandaged  her  wounds  as  best  I  could. 

Our  homeward  journey  was  very  unlike  the  cheer- 
ful tramp  of  the  morning,  for  Ellen  tottered  as  she 
walked,  and  I  had  need  to  support  her  with  my  arm, 
while  Thomas  carried  the  guns  and  powder-horns. 
The  snow  no  longer  gleamed  and  sparkled,  for  the 
afternoon  light  was  hazy  and  dull,  and  the  sky  a 
cold,  smeary  gray.  Forest,  field  and  hill  were  but 
the  component  parts  of  a  commonplace  winter  land- 
scape, and  bear  hunting  something  else  than  a  glo- 
rious adventure  through  an  enchanted  forest. 

And  I  was  not  the  same,  nor  Ellen.  She  was 
become  all  at  once  a  woman,  shy,  reserved,  conscious 
of  my  touch,  leaning  on  my  arm  no  more  than  neces- 
sity required.  And  I,  though  half  vexed  at  the 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  59 

change  in  her,  and  grieved  that  I  had  lost  so  con- 
genial a  comrade  —  for  I  knew  intuitively  that  our 
intercourse  would  never  again  be  so  unrestrained  — 
nevertheless  found  her  more  interesting,  more  allur- 
ing because  of  this  very  change  which  put  a  distance 
between  us,  and  which  had  in  it  a  touch  of  mystery: 
—  as  the  forest  had  been  that  morning  the  fairer, 
for  that  unnameable  magic  with  which  nature  veils 
herself  in  her  stiller  haunts. 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  conversation  around  our  Yule  fire,  to  which 
I  had  listened  with  such  eager  absorption,  had  caused 
my  budding  convictions  to  bloom  in  an  hour  into 
fully  expanded  principles.  I  had  caught  the  fever 
of  patriotism  running  like  an  epidemic  through  the 
land.  Were  not  we  of  Scotch  Irish  race  and  Pres- 
byterian faith  pledged  already  to  the  cause  since  the 
first  blood  shed  for  American  liberty  was  the  blood 
of  the  Scotch  Irish  Presbyterians,  spilled  at  the  bat- 
tle of  Alamance,  when  the  stern  North  Carolina 
"  Regulators  "  had  risen,  like  Cromwell's  "  Iron- 
sides," against  the  tyranny  of  their  royal  governor? 
The  "  Boston  Tea  Party,"  therefore,  found  quickest 
sympathy  among  the  Scotch  Irish  of  the  Southern 
and  Middle  States,  and  the  earliest  and  grimmest  of 
the  resolutions  sent  up  to  the  several  assemblies, 
urging  that  Massachusetts  be  sustained,  and  kingly 
tyranny  determinedly  resisted,  came  from  the  towns 
and  counties  settled  by  these  people.  "  Freedom  or 
death  "  was  the  consuming  sentiment  in  the  hearts 
of  many  Scotch  Irish  Americans  for  months  before 
the  typical  orator  of  that  race  thrilled  a  continent 
by  speaking  those  immortal  words,  "  Give  me  lib- 
erty, or  give  me  death." 

The  first  call  issued  by  Congress  for  troops  named 
seven  rifle  companies  to  be  recruited  in  Pennsylvania, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  61 

Maryland  and  Virginia.  Again  I  put  aside  my 
books,  only  this  time  I  gave  them  to  a  fellow  student 
who  sorely  needed  them,  and  went  home  to  tell  my 
father  that  I  meant  to  enlist.  I  recall  as  vividly  as 
'twere  yesterday  that  calm  spring  afternoon  when 
I  took  the  short  cut  across  flower  spangled  meadows, 
and  bosky,  sweet  scented  woods  to  the  humble  home 
which  had  given  me  a  youth  so  rich  in  love  and  hap- 
piness, but  which  I  was  so  soon  to  leave  for  priva- 
tions, dangers,  and  temptations  such  as  had  not  yet 
entered  into  my  imagination. 

It  was  the  year  of  my  majority,  and  I  was  already 
mature  in  physical  development.  Even  in  our  neigh- 
borhood of  "  brawny  Scotchmen  "  I  was  called  tall, 
measuring  six  feet  three  inches  in  my  moccasins,  and 
though  somewhat  spare,  was  broad  of  shoulder,  long 
of  limb,  muscular,  agile,  and  deep  winded;  more- 
over, I  could  ride  and  shoot  with  the  best  man  in 
the  valley.  More  proud  was  I,  at  this  time,  of  my 
strength,  and  the  keen  sight  of  my  gray  eyes,  than 
of  my  brown,  curling  hair,  and  the  general  comeli- 
ness of  my  appearance,  in  which  my  mother  took 
such  pride.  A  few  months  later  I  was  to  have  my 
hour  of  vanity,  and  to  eat  the  fruit  of  it. 

Few  men,  I  imagine,  can  separate  their  lives 
sharply  into  boyhood  and  manhood,  but  mine  I  can. 
That  last  Christmas  holiday  of  my  schooldays 
marked  the  line  of  division,  and  I  took  the  first  step 
across  it  the  day  I  saved  Ellen  from  the  bear's  fangs, 
and  the  second  the  hour  I  formed  the  resolution  to 
shoulder  my  rifle  for  American  liberty.  My  father, 
it  is  true,  had  chosen  to  treat  me  as  a  man,  since  the 
Indian  raid,  but  from  the  hour  I  made  up  my  mind 


62  DONALD  MCELROY 

to  enlist  I  put  aside  childish  things,  and  bore  myself 
with  a  consciousness  of  manhood's  power. 

A  stranger  sat  on  our  porch  who,  hearing  me  an- 
nounce impetuously  to  my  father,  as  he  came  to  the 
top  of  the  porch  steps  to  meet  me,  that  "  I  meant  to 
enlist  in  one  of  the  rifle  companies,"  sprang  up  from 
his  chair,  seized  my  hand,  shook  it  heartily,  and  said 
with  a  genial  smile,  and  cordial  tone  that  made  my 
spirit  go  out  to  him  at  a  leap, 

"You're  a  lad  after  my  own  heart,  sir!  Are 
there  many  more  like  you  in  this  valley?  How  old 
is  your  son,  Justice  McElroy?  " 

"  Not  long  past  twenty,  sir.  Donald,  this  is  Cap- 
tain Morgan,  the  renowned  Indian  fighter  of  whom 
you  have  so  often  heard.  He  is  in  the  neighbor- 
hood to  enlist  men  for  his  rifle  company,  so  you  have 
not  far  to  go  to  fulfill  your  purpose." 

I  looked  now,  you  may  be  sure,  with  fresh  interest 
at  the  powerful  but  graceful  figure  before  me.  He 
was  nearly  as  tall  as  I,  but  broader  and  heavier;  his 
tanned,  handsome  face  was  marred  by  a  scar  on  the 
right  cheek,  and  I  noted  even  in  this  first  hasty 
scrutiny  an  indication  of  stubborn  will  in  the  set  of 
his  lips,  and  a  dare  devil  gleam  in  his  fine  eyes  that 
would  make  one  hesitate  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  him. 

"  I  have  found  my  captain,"  I  thought,  my  pulse 
throbbing  joyously,  just  as  he  spoke  again,  with  that 
ring  of  cheerful  courage  in  his  voice  which  I  was  to 
learn  to  know  so  well,  and  so  often  to  be  inspired  by. 

"  That  we  shall  win  admits  no  doubt  if  I  can  en- 
list a  company  of  muscular  young  giants  like  you. 
Can  you  shoot,  lad?  " 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  63 

"  Aye,  that  he  can,"  laughed  my  father,  well 
pleased,  I  could  see,  by  Captain  Morgan's  manner 
toward  me.  "  Cut  off  a  squirrel's  head  at  a  distance 
of  three  hundred  yards.  And  there  are  other 
marksmen  in  our  valley  that  can  fully  equal  him, 
though  few  as  tall  as  my  son  Donald,"  and  he  laid 
a  caressing  hand  upon  my  shoulder. 

"  You  shall  be  one  of  my  sergeants,  lad,"  con- 
tinued Captain  Morgan,  seizing  my  hand  again, 
"  and  to-morrow  you  must  ride  with  me  to  enlist  as 
many  like  you  as  this  neighborhood  affords." 

"  Unfortunately,  Captain  Morgan,"  said  my  fa- 
ther, "  some  of  those  who  would  like  nothing  better 
than  the  opportunity  to  strike  a  blow  for  our  rights, 
dare  not  leave  their  families  and  homes  here  un- 
protected, subject  as  we  are  to  the  raids  of  the  sav- 
ages from  across  the  mountain.  Enough  able- 
bodied  men  must  be  left  in  the  valley  to  turn  back 
Indian  forays,  though,  since  our  victory  over  them 
at  Point  Pleasant,  our  danger  is  not  near  so  great. 
Still  a  score  or  more  recruits  may  be  hadMn  this 
neighborhood,  I  doubt  not." 

"  May  I  ask,  Captain  Morgan,  whither  we  are 
to  march  after  our  quota  has  been  recruited?"  I 
questioned. 

"  Straight  to  Boston,  where  we  will  have  a  chance 
to  drill." 

"  And  to  fight  also,  I  hope." 

"Amen,  lad,  say  I  to  that!  and  may  there  be 
other  of  your  brave  spirit.  I  like  not  this  dallying, 
this  parleying  with  the  stubborn  king,  who  but  de- 
ludes us  with  promises  while  he  gains  time  to  equip 
and  to  land  his  troops  upon  our  shores.  And  I  am 


64  DONALD  MCELROY 

beginning  to  think  that  this  talk  of  our  Congress 
that  we  take  up  arms  as  loyal  subjects  of  England, 
to  force  from  the  crown  redress  of  our  grievances, 
goes  not  far  enough.  Only  a  democracy  where  all 
are  free  and  equal,  and  where  the  stakes  are  worth 
the  risks  and  privations  to  be  endured,  is  suited  to 
the  genius  of  this  vast  and  virgin  continent.  Under 
no  other  form  of  government  may  she  be  rightly 
developed." 

"  Nor  are  you  alone,  sir,  in  that  opinion,"  replied 
my  father.  "  None  other  is  held  in  this  valley,  as 
the  memorial  sent  up  to  the  assembly  by  the  county 
committee  of  Augusta  in  February  last  can  testify. 
Were  the  Scotch  Irish  settlers  of  this  country  con- 
sulted, Captain  Morgan,  our  declaration  of  inde- 
pendence would  be  speedily  proclaimed;  Patrick 
Henry's  burning  words  but  voice  the  sentiment  of 
his  race." 

"  The  timid  and  the  half-hearted  may  not  yet  be 
safely  set  in  opposition,  perhaps,"  answered  Captain 
Morgan,  "  and  Congress  is  beset  with  many  diffi- 
culties. But  'tis  for  the  independence  of  the  Ameri- 
can States  I  have  drawn  my  sword  " —  and  as  he 
spoke  he  sprang  suddenly  to  his  feet,  straightened 
his  imposing  figure  and  keyed  his  voice  to  a  clarion 
pitch  — "  nor  will  I  sheathe  it  again,  save  death  or 
bodily  infirmities  intervene,  till  the  glorious  cause  of 
America's  liberty  has  been  won  —  till  we  are  a  free, 
self-governing  people !  " 

"  I  take  that  oath  with  you,  sir,"  said  I,  springing 
also  to  my  feet. 

Then  my  father,  looking  up  at  us  from  his  arm 
chair,  unwiped  tears  upon  his  cheeks,  said,  in  deep, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  65 

reverent  tone:  "God  grant  us  victory,  and  make 
this  goodly  land  the  home  of  freedom  • —  a  refuge 
for  the  oppressed  of  all  nations !  " 

We  found  no  trouble  in  enlisting  men  enough  in 
our  valley  to  complete  the  company  Captain  Morgan 
was  to  command,  and  in  three  weeks  I  was  ready  to 
march  the  Augusta  boys  to  Frederick  County,  where 
we  were  to  join  our  captain  and  the  rest  of  the  men. 
The  twenty-two  boys  from  our  end  of  the  valley 
bivouacked  all  night  in  our  yard,  that  we  might  get 
an  early  start  the  next  morning;  and  that  evening 
the  neighbors  came  from  far  and  near  to  give  us 
farewell,  and  a  blessing.  Uncle  Thomas  and  his 
family  came  with  the  rest,  Aunt  Martha  helping  to 
cook  the  hot  supper  which  my  mother  insisted  on 
serving  the  lads  under  the  trees,  that  their  home- 
filled  haversacks  might  be  saved  for  the  march. 

Thomas  wandered  about  among  the  men,  lying  in 
groups  upon  the  grass  in  the  shade  of  the  oaks  and 
elms,  with  a  look  of  distress  upon  his  face  that  sur- 
prised me.  At  last  he  called  me  to  one  side,  and 
said  with  trembling  lips, 

"  Don,  I'd  give  the  next  ten  years  of  my  life  to 
go  with  you." 

"  You  are  too  young,  Thomas.  Why,  you  are 
not  nineteen  yet." 

"  There  are  four  boys  in  the  squad  no  older  than 
I,  and  I  am  strong,  and  a  fair  shot." 

"  Then  enlist;  it's  not  too  late  yet,  and  the  more 
the  merrier." 

"  But  my  mother  made  me  give  her  a  solemn 
promise  that  I  would  not.  She  wishes  me  to  be  a 


66  DONALD  McELROY 

minister,  and  once  I  thought  I  was  called,  but  now 
I  believe  I  was  mistaken.  I  couldn't  be  so  wild  to 
go  to  the  war  if  I  had  received  a  call  from  heaven 
to  the  ministry;  but  mother  says  it  will  kill  her  if 
I  turn  soldier,  after  she  has  solemnly  consecrated 
me  to  the  Lord.  Oh,  Donald,  what  must  I  do?  " 

u  I  cannot  advise  you  to  disobey  your  mother, 
Thomas,"  I  answered,  u  but  I  am  sorry  for  you." 

"  Ellen  says  my  life  is  my  own,  to  live  as  I  please, 
and  that  not  even  my  mother  has  a  right  to  dictate 
to  me  whether  I  shall  be  preacher  or  soldier,"  sighed 
Thomas. 

Now  I  half  agreed  with  Ellen,  but  the  doctrine 
seemed  an  irreverent  one  to  a  youth  of  Scotch  Irish 
raising,  so  I  only  repeated,  "  I  think  you  had  best 
obey  your  mother,  Tom,"  which  afforded  him  small 
consolation.  He  answered  me  with  a  suppressed 
groan,  and  presently  went  back  to  the  soldiers. 

Hot  and  tired  from  the  day's  labors,  I  decided, 
after  supper,  to  cool  myself  by  a  last  drink  of  my 
mother's  delicious  buttermilk.  The  footpath  to  the 
spring  wound  its  careless  way  down  a  grassy  slope 
starred  with  dandelions,  and  dusted  with  milky  ways 
of  daisies  and  pale  bluets.  Apple,  pear,  and  peach 
trees  grew  in  the  angles  of  the  worm  fence  which 
separated  the  garden  from  the  meadow,  and  they 
were  so  full  of  bloom  that  they  looked  like  masses 
of  pink  and  white  clouds  drifted  down  to  earth. 
There  was  a  crab  apple  tree  among  them,  and  its 
elusive  fragrance  came  and  went  upon  the  zephyrs 
which  swayed  the  dandelions  and  rustled  the  blos- 
soms upon  the  trees.  The  world  about  my  feet  was 
as  fair  and  full  of  mystic  charm  as  the  moon-glori- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  67 

fied,  star-spangled  heaven.  The  talk,  the  work,  the 
plans  which  had  filled  the  last  weeks  of  my  life, 
seemed  out  of  tune  with  God's  purposes,  as  revealed 
in  nature  —  out  of  keeping  with  His  beneficent  plans 
for  all  His  handiwork. 

Pondering  this  strange  anomaly,  of  the  tendency 
of  God's  creatures  to  make  war  continually  upon 
each  other,  in  the  midst  of  a  world  so  fair,  so  benefi- 
cent, and  so  peaceful  —  the  solemn  mystery  of  death 
always  treading  close  upon  the  heels  of  life  —  of 
the  desolation  always  threatening  beauty,  I  passed 
the  springhouse  before  I  knew  it,  and  found  myself 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  where  the  spring  breaks  forth 
to  fall  into  a  natural  basin  overhung  by  a  broad, 
jutting  rock.  As  I  raised  my  eyes  to  this  rock,  a 
vision  greeted  me  which  startled  me  into  an  instant's 
consciousness  of  superstitious  terror.  Did  I  see  a 
ghost  at  last  —  after  all  my  jeering  unbelief?  Was 
that  slim  shape,  wrapped  in  a  white  robe  standing 
so  motionless  on  the  white  rock,  the  spirit  of  some 
Indian  maiden,  seeking  again  the  haunts  where  in  life 
she  had  met  her  lover? 

Of  course  not;  it  was  only  Ellen,  for  now  I  saw 
a  hand  lifted,  to  push  back  the  wind  blowsed  curls 
from  her  forehead.  Softly  I  climbed  the  hill  behind 
her,  and  stood  at  her  side,  but  so  rapt  was  she  in 
her  own  thoughts,  she  did  not  hear  me  till  I  spoke. 

"  What  are  you  looking  at,  Ellen?  "  I  asked. 

Had  I  not  thrown  my  arm  quickly  about  her,  she 
would  have  sprung  from  the  rock  in  her  startled 
surprise,  yet  she  did  not  scream,  but  regained  her 
poise  in  an  instant,  disengaged  herself  from  my  arm, 
and  answered  me  calmly  — 


68  DONALD  McELROY 

"  At  the  moon,  Cousin  Donald." 

"  'Tis  only  a  round,  bright  ball,  Ellen;  why  gaze 
at  it  so  long  and  fixedly?  " 

"  'Tis  more  than  a  silver  ball  when  one  looks  at 
it  so.  It  grows  bigger  and  deeper,  and  within  there 
are  mountains  and  caverns,  and  seas  and  plains; 
mayhap  there  are  people  there  who  suffer  and  think 
as  we  do.  Would  you  not  like  to  have  great  wings, 
Cousin  Donald,  and  fly  and  fly  through  the  soft  blue 
air,  till  you  reached  the  moon?  " 

"  Such  fancies  have  never  come  into  my  mind, 
Ellen.  You  must  have  clear  eyes,  and  a  vivid  imag- 
ination," and  I  smiled  down  upon  her,  not  a  little 
amused  by  her  fanciful  conceits. 

"  If  I  did  not  I  should  die;  "  then,  turning  hotly 
upon  me,  "  How  would  you  like  to  walk  back  and 
forth,  back  and  forth  along  a  bare  floor,  with  bare 
garret  walls  about  you,  whirring  a  great,  ugly  wheel, 
and  twisting  coarse,  ill-smelling  wool  all  day  long, 
day  after  day?  One  dare  not  think,  for  then  one 
gets  careless  and  breaks  or  knots  the  thread,  and 
yet  to  keep  one's  mind  upon  so  dreary,  and  so  mo- 
notonous a  task  is  maddening.  Do  you  wonder  I 
run  away,  and  talk  with  the  flower-fairies,  or  the 
stars,  whenever  I  get  the  chance?  " 

"  No,  Ellen,  I  don't.  I  have  often  thought  that 
women's  tasks  must  be  very  wearisome,  the  endless 
spinning,  weaving,  and  knitting.  I  wonder  they 
have  patience  for  such  work." 

"  I  wish  I  might  go  to  the  war  with  you,  Cousin 
Donald." 

"  You  could  never  stand  the  hardships." 

"  But  I  think  I  could.     I'd  love  to  sleep  out  of 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  69 

doors,  under  the  winking  stars,  and  the  friendly 
moon;  I'd  love  to  walk  through  trackless  forests, 
across  wide,  unknown  plains,  and  to  come  now  and 
then  upon  some  town  or  settlement  where  every  one 
would  feast  and  praise  the  patriots." 

"  But  what  of  the  cold,  hunger  and  fatigue?  of 
wounds  and  capture  and  the  sights  and  sounds  after 
a  battle?  It  tries  even  the  souls  of  brave,  strong 
men  to  bear  such  things." 

"  The  soul  of  a  woman  might  endure  as  much, 
and  I  think  I  should  mind  even  those  things  less  than 
eternal  spinning,  Cousin  Donald." 

I  laughed  now.  "  You  are  not  yet  a  woman, 
Ellen,  and  you  are  not  doomed,  I  trust,  to  eternal 
spinning.  When  I  come  back  from  the  war  we'll  go 
hunting  every  day,  even  though  we  will  have  to  run 
off  from  Aunt  Martha." 

"  I  shall  not  have  a  friend  left  except  grand- 
ma." 

"  And  Thomas." 

"  Thomas  likes  me,  yes,  but  he  is  too  much  afraid 
of  his  mother  to  help  me  have  my  way.  When  you 
come  back  you  may  not  find  me  here." 

"  Of  course  I  shall;  and  remember,  Ellen,  we  are 
always  to  be  good  friends  and  comrades,"  and  I  held 
out  my  hand  to  her. 

"Good  friends  and  comrades,"  repeated  Ellen; 
"  I  shall  remind  you  one  day  when  you  come  home 
famous,  and  dignified  —  if  I  am  able  to  endure  life 
with  Aunt  Martha  so  long  as  that,"  and  she  put  her 
hand  in  mine  in  the  old  way  of  confident  comrade- 
ship which  had  gone  out  of  our  intercourse  for 
months.  Hand  in  hand  we  went  back  to  the  house, 


70  DONALD  McELROY 

talking  intimately,  she  of  her  thoughts  and  feelings, 
I  of  my  plans  and  hopes. 

Before  sun-up  the  next  morning  we  were  on  the 
march.  I  had  left  Jean  weeping  bitterly  on  grand- 
mother's shoulder,  and  I  doubt  not  the  dear  old  lady 
wept,  too,  when  I  was  out  of  sight.  My  mother 
stood  in  the  doorway,  shading  her  brave,  loving  eyes 
with  her  hand,  that  I  might  not  see  fall  the  tears 
glittering  on  their  lashes.  Father  walked  beside  me 
at  the  head  of  my  little  troop  for  a  mile,  and,  before 
he  left  me,  took  me  in  his  arms  in  sight  of  them  all, 
straining  me  for  an  instant  to  his  breast,  and  pouring 
out  a  patriarch's  blessing  upon  my  bowed  head. 

Our  valley  looked  very  fair  that  day,  as  we 
marched  northward  across  it.  The  rank  wheat 
rolled  in  billows  of  rich  green,  the  springing  corn 
showed  narrow  gray  green  blades,  which  moved 
gently  to  and  fro  above  the  loamy  uplands,  and  the 
forests,  which  enclosed  the  cleared  lands  on  all  sides, 
were  fresh  robed  in  verdure  of  many  hues.  Edging 
the  forest  like  a  jeweled  braid  grew  masses  of  red- 
bud,  dogwood  and  hawthorn  in  full  blossom,  and 
singing  along  its  sparkling  way,  the  river  wound  in 
and  out  of  velvety  meadows  with  deep  curves  and 
bold  sweeps  of  bountiful  intent,  embracing  as  much 
as  possible  of  this  fair  land  that  it  might  scatter 
widely  its  fertilizing  influences. 

"  Boys,"  I  said,  pausing  on  an  eminence  from 
which  we  could  see  all  our  end  of  the  valley,  and 
pointing  outward,  as  I  stopped  to  take  a  long,  last 
look,  "  is  it  not  a  land  worth  fighting  for?  " 

"Aye,  aye,  sergeant!  "  came  in  hearty  chorus. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  71 

"  Then  fight  for  it  we  will,  like  brave  men  and 
true,  nor  look  backward  again  till  freedom  be  won." 

"Aye,  that  we  will !  "  again  in  deep,  full  accord, 
and  when  all  had  taken  a  lingering  look,  I  gave  the 
command  — 

"  Right  about  face !     Forward!  " 

Without  a  backward  glance,  we  tramped  onward, 
our  faces  forever  toward  the  enemies  of  freedom. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Under  Morgan  we  marched  to  Boston,  and  a  long 
and  weary  tramp  it  seemed,  though  in  comparison 
with  later  ones,  I  learned  to  look  back  upon  it  as  a 
pleasant  summer's  journey.  Our  uniforms,  pat- 
terned after  Morgan's  habitual  dress,  consisted  of 
buckskin  breeches,  leggins  and  moccasins,  a  flannel 
shirt,  over  which  we  usually  wore  an  unbleached 
linen  hunting  shirt,  confined  with  a  leathern  belt  at 
the  waist,  and  a  huntsman's  cap  on  the  band  of 
which  was  inscribed,  "  Liberty  or  Death."  From 
each  man's  belt  hung  a  knife,  a  tomahawk,  and  a 
bullet  pouch,  and  each  rifleman  carried  in  his  pockets 
a  bullet  mold,  and  a  bar  of  lead;  across  one  shoul- 
der passed  the  strap  from  which  hung  his  powder- 
horn,  and  over  the  other  he  carried  his  rifle  with  its 
whittled  ramrod  of  hickory  wood. 

Our  uniforms,  our  size,  and  our  marksmanship 
won  for  us  immediate  notoriety  and  consideration, 
and  not  many  days  were  we  permitted  to  be  idle, 
though  it  was  but  comparative  idleness  we  enjoyed, 
even  in  camp,  since  we  were  drilled  two  hours  each 
morning  and  afternoon,  and  did  our  share  of  guard 
duty  in  the  trenches  around  Boston.  In  our  leisure 
hours  we  taught  the  Yankees  to  chew  tobacco,  and 
to  mold  bullets,  and  learned  in  return  to  rant  elo- 
quently upon  liberty  and  natural  rights  in  the  Ian- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  73 

guage  of  Samuel  Adams,  and  John  Hancock,  and  to 
eat  beans  baked  with  hog  middling. 

Early  in  September  we  were  ordered  to  join  Colo- 
nel Arnold's  command  for  a  raid  into  Canada.  In 
addition  to  our  arms,  ammunition,  and  blankets  we 
must  take  turns  at  carrying  the  light  canoes  necessary 
for  a  part  of  our  journey,  and  many  miles  of  our 
way  lay  through  the  tangled  undergrowth  of  dense 
forests,  or  across  the  treacherous  slime  of  trackless 
bogs.  It  was  not  long  before  many  of  the  men  were 
bare  footed,  half  naked,  and  weak  from  insufficient 
food;  for  our  rifles  were  soon  our  dependence  for 
rations,  and  game  grew  scarce  as  we  proceeded 
northward.  Several  of  the  companies  ate  their  sled 
dogs  with  relish.  Morgan's  men  fared  better  than 
the  rest,  for  it  was  our  rule  to  share  equally  what- 
ever game  we  killed,  and  we  were  sure  to  get  a  large 
proportion  of  all  there  was  to  be  found.  More- 
over, our  clothes,  being  of  leather,  stood  the  wear  of 
the  march  better  than  the  uniforms  of  the  rest,  and 
many  of  us  could  make  rude  moccasins  of  wolf  or 
dog  skins. 

After  two  months  of  toils  and  privations  such  as 
I  wonder  now  we  were  able  to  endure,  we  reached 
Quebec  with  but  seven  hundred  of  the  thousand  men 
with  whom  we  had  started  from  Boston.  In  re- 
sponse to  Arnold's  daring  summons  to  fight  or  sur- 
render, the  garrison  shut  the  city's  gates  in  our  faces, 
and  we  were  compelled  to  lie  in  our  trenches,  and 
wait  for  General  Montgomery's  reinforcements. 
On  the  last  day  of  December,  1775,  in  the  midst  of 
a  blinding  snow  storm,  we  attacked  Quebec.  Gen- 
eral Montgomery  soon  received  the  bullet  that  ended 


74  DONALD  McELROY 

his  career,  and  Colonel  Arnold  was  wounded  shortly 
after.  But  for  these  two  untoward  misfortunes,  I 
truly  believe  we  had  won  the  day,  and  over  all  Can- 
ada and  all  British  America  would  now  be  waving 
the  Stars  and  Stripes.  Be  that  as  it  may,  we  rifle- 
men came  very  near  to  taking  Quebec  alone  and 
unsupported,  for  Morgan  took  the  battery  opposed 
to  him,  and  penetrated  to  the  very  center  of  the 
town.  Meanwhile,  General  Montgomery's  troops, 
broken  and  disorganized  for  lack  of  a  leader,  and 
Arnold's,  in  like  case,  were  falling  back;  our  op- 
ponents were  left  free  to  concentrate  their  forces 
upon  us,  so  that,  after  a  fierce  resistance,  we  were 
completely  surrounded,  outnumbered,  and  compelled 
to  surrender. 

We  lay  in  prison  at  Quebec  for  nine  long  months, 
treated  with  as  much  kindness  as  is  usually  accorded 
to  prisoners  of  war,  but  chafing  like  wild  animals  in 
a  cage.  Captain  Morgan  told  me  of  the  offer,  made 
to  him  by  one  of  the  garrison  officers,  that  he  should 
be  made  a  colonel  in  the  British  army,  if  he  would 
but  desert  "  a  doomed  and  hopeless  cause,"  and  of 
the  hot  reply  he  made. 

"  Sir,  I  scorn  your  proposition,  and  I  trust  that 
you  will  never  again  insult  me  in  my  present  dis- 
tressed and  unfortunate  condition,  by  making  me  an 
offer  which  plainly  implies  that  you  consider  me  a 
scoundrel." 

At  last  we  were  discharged,  Captain  Morgan  on 
parole,  and  were  carried  in  transports  to  New  York. 
I  saw  Morgan  as  he  stepped  off  the  boat,  in  the 
brilliant  light  of  a  harvest  moon,  stoop  and  kiss  the 
soil,  and  heard  him  whisper  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  75 

"  My  country,  my  country !  "  My  own  heart 
swelled  within  me,  and  I  could  have  done  likewise 
with  full  meaning. 

Great  things,  of  which  we  had  heard  but  vague 
rumors,  had  happened  in  our  absence.  Boston  had 
been  evacuated  by  the  enemy,  the  attack  on  Fort 
Moultrie  had  failed,  and  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence had  been  declared  by  all  the  thirteen  States. 
On  the  other  hand,  General  Washington  had  been 
compelled  to  yield  New  York  to  Howe,  and  to  fall 
back  to  New  Jersey,  and  England  was  making  ready 
to  send  army  after  army  across  the  ocean  to  conquer 
her  rebellious  colonies. 

Though  my  term  of  enlistment  had  already  ex- 
pired, I  could  not  go  home  in  the  midst  of  such 
stirring  events,  so  I  made  haste  to  Morristown,  there 
reenlisted,  and  was  put  to  service  as  special  courier 
to  General  Washington.  And  now,  for  the  first 
time,  I  saw  the  man  to  whom  all  patriotic  hearts 
turned  with  hope  and  pride.  His  soldierly,  dignified 
bearing,  the  look  of  resolute,  yet  not  arrogant  self- 
consciousness  upon  his  face,  his  courteous  manner, 
and  the  perfectly  controlled  tone  of  voice  in  which 
he  issued  a  command,  or  uttered  a  rebuke,  impressed 
me  with  a  confidence  that  made  me  from  that  hour 
sure  of  our  cause.  "  With  such  leaders  as  Washing- 
ton, Arnold  and  Morgan,"  I  thought,  with  fervid 
enthusiasm  and  pride,  "  how  can  we  fail  to  win?  " 

Not  many  weeks  later  my  beloved  captain,  who 
had  been  exchanged,  and  made  a  colonel  by  act  of 
Congress,  marched  into  our  camp  with  one  hundred 
and  eight  recruits,  most  of  them  from  the  valley,  at 


76  DONALD  McELROY 

his  back.     I  could  hardly  wait  till  he  had  reported 
at  headquarters  before  I  sought  him. 

'  'Tis  my  old  comrade,  Donald  McElroy !  "  he 
said,  scarcely  less  moved  than  I.  "  Have  you  been 
on  duty  all  this  time,  lad,  with  no  furlough,  no  rest? 
Ah,  many's  the  time  I've  told  Arnold,  that  with  ten 
thousand  such  troops  as  my  Scotch  Irish  riflemen, 
I'd  undertake  to  whip  all  the  armies  that  could  be 
sent  to  these  shores." 

"  I  believe  you  could  do  it,  Colonel,"  answered  I, 
"  but  your  health,  sir  ?  Are  you  quite  strong 
again?  " 

"  Never  better,  lad;  even  my  rheumatism  is  gone. 
I've  been  home,  you  know,  for  five  months,  and  have 
had  nothing  but  coddling  from  that  good  wife  of 
mine.  Six  months  more  of  it,  and  I'd  have  been 
unfitted  for  further  service  to  my  country.  My  lad, 
you  should  marry  —  how  old  are  you,  sir?  " 

"  In  my  twenty-third  year,  Colonel,  but  as  yet  I 
have  had  no  time  to  look  for  a  wife,"  and  I  blushed 
like  a  lass. 

u  There's  yet  time  enough,  without  doubt,  but  a 
man  needs  a  wife  to  keep  him  from  mischief  —  espe- 
cially a  soldier.  I  was  but  a  half  tamed  animal  till 
Abigail  took  me  in  training;  ever  since  I  have  lived 
the  life  of  a  gentleman,  I  hope,  and  been  as  happy 
as  a  lord.  You  deserve  a  good  wife,  Donald,  and 
I  shall  help  you  to  find  one,  sir." 

Despite  the  embarrassment  which  such  personal 
interest  caused  me,  I  was  greatly  pleased  to  be  so 
noticed  by  my  colonel,  and  when,  a  few  days  later, 
he  sent  for  me  to  tell  me  that  he  had  named  me  as 
one  of  the  captains  who  were  to  command  the  eight 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  77 

companies  of  which  his  regiment  would  be  composed, 
I  was  filled  with  such  joy  and  pride  as  I  have  since 
experienced  but  once  —  and  then  upon  a  very  differ- 
ent occasion. 

"  Donald,  lad,"  said  Colonel  Morgan,  standing 
at  the  door  of  my  tent  on  an  April  morning,  when 
the  sweet  scents  and  cheerful  sounds  of  early  spring 
had  started  a  longing  in  my  heart  for  a  look  at  our 
valley,  "  I've  a  secret  for  your  ear,  and  an  expedi- 
tion to  propose  to  you." 

"  Come  in,  Colonel,"  said  I,  smiling  with  pleasure 
of  his  visit,  and  offering  my  one  chair ;  "  I'll  be  proud 
to  know  the  secret,  and  I  promise  to  keep  it  well." 

"  We  are  shortly  to  be  ordered  North  to  join 
General  Gates,  who  is  to  check  the  advance  of  Gen- 
eral Burgoyne  upon  New  York,  if  possible,  and  we'll 
see  active  service,  and  mayhap  a  big  battle  or  two, 
at  last.  Meantime  I'm  riding  home  on  ten  days' 
furlough,  to  say  good-by  to  Abigail,  and  would  you 
ride  with  me,  I'll  grant  you  leave  to  go." 

"  Your  invitation  is  an  honor  I  much  appreciate, 
Colonel,  and  it  will  give  me  pleasure  to  go." 

"  Then  be  ready,  by  sun  up." 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  at  night,  and  our  horses 
were  stiff  jointed,  and  without  spirit,  after  three 
days'  hard  traveling,  when  we  rode  through  the 
double  gates  that  opened  into  the  driveway  circling 
the  lawn  of  "  Soldier's  Rest  " —  Colonel  Morgan's 
home  in  Frederick  County.  The  spacious  brick 
house  with  its  columned  porch  was  in  darkness,  save 
for  one  brightly  lighted  room  on  the  left,  and  a 
single  candle  burning  in  the  hall.  Colonel  Mor- 
gan's spurs  and  sword  clanked  noisily  on  the  bare 


78  DONALD  McELROY 

floor  of  the  hallway,  and  he  called  to  me,  in  hearty 
tones,  "  Come  on,  lad!  we'll  find  Abigail  in  the  red 
room."  As  he  spoke  the  door  flew  open,  warmth 
and  light  streamed  forth  to  meet  us,  and  also  the 
sweet  tones  of  a  woman's  voice  in  eager  greeting. 

"  Well,  Dan'l !  what  good  fortune  brought  you 
back  so  soon?  Oh,  but  it  is  good  to  see  your  dear 
face  again !  "  I  hung  back  in  the  shadow,  with  a 
lump  in  my  throat,  while  Mrs.  Morgan  laid  her  head 
on  her  husband's  breast,  and  was  for  a  moment 
clasped  in  his  arms. 

"  Captain  McElroy  is  with  me,  Abigail,"  said  the 
Colonel.  "  Where  are  you,  Donald?  " 

"  Here,  Colonel,"  said  I,  stepping  into  the  light. 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  welcome  you  to  our  home, 
Captain  McElroy,"  in  Mrs.  Morgan's  kind  tones. 
"  I've  heard  the  Colonel  speak  of  you,  and  of  your 
family;  walk  in,  and  be  resting  while  I  have  supper 
served;  you  are  both  hungry  and  tired,  I  am  sure." 

"  That  we  are,  Abigail,"  and  the  Colonel  set  me 
the  example  of  divesting  himself  of  muddy  leggins, 
spurs,  and  top  coat — "  The  smell  of  your  coffee 
and  fried  ham  has  been  in  my  nostrils  for  two  hours 
past.  Donald,  she's  the  best  housekeeper  in  the 
Old  Dominion,"  and  he  smiled  proudly  upon  the 
round,  comely,  beaming  little  woman,  who,  as  I  soon 
discovered,  deserved  all  his  praise,  for  she  was  equal 
to  my  own  mother  as  housewife. 

As  I  followed  Mrs.  Morgan  into  the  living  room, 
which  was  brightly  lighted  by  half  a  dozen  candles 
in  brass  candlesticks  with  crystal  pendants,  and  a 
pile  of  roaring  logs  upon  the  hearth,  I  realized  sud- 
denly the  presence  of  a  very  pretty  young  woman 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  79 

sitting  beside  a  candle  stand,  on  one  side  of  the 
fire  place,  with  a  piece  of  needle  work  in  her  hands. 
She  looked  up  as  we  entered,  then  dropped  her  eyes 
again  to  her  work. 

"  Colonel  Morgan,  this  is  my  cousin,  Nelly  Bu- 
ford,  and  this  is  Captain  McElroy,  Nelly." 

The  young  lady  rose,  dropped  me  a  graceful 
courtesy,  then  turned  and  held  out  her  hand  to 
Colonel  Morgan. 

"  You  do  not  remember  me,  Cousin  Daniel,  but 
I  well  recall  you,  and  the  day  you  came  to  our  house 
to  see  Cousin  Abigail.  I  had  heard  of  you  as  a 
famous  Indian  fighter,  and  I  peeped  at  you  through 
the  half  open  door,  expecting  to  see  a  string  of  scalps 
around  your  waist." 

"  I  had  no  eyes  nor  ears  then  for  any  woman  save 
Abigail,"  replied  Colonel  Morgan,  shaking  her  hand 
in  his  hearty  fashion,  "  but  I'll  never  forget  your 
pretty  face  again,  Cousin  Nelly  —  be  sure  of  that." 

She  laughed  merrily,  and  her  ease  of  manner  in- 
dicated that  she  was  as  much  used  to  pretty  speeches 
as  she  deserved  them.  There  was  a  witchery  in  her 
laughing  hazel  eyes,  in  the  curves  of  her  saucy,  full 
lipped  mouth,  in  the  very  tendrils  of  blonde  hair 
which  looped  and  ringed  in  riotous  fashion  about 
the  small  pink  ears,  and  low,  white  brow,  which  few 
men  tried  to  resist.  Before  we  retired  that  night, 
I  was  completely  fascinated.  I  lay  wide  awake  in 
spite  of  my  weariness  until  past  midnight,  recalling 
each  curve  of  her  pretty,  piquant  face,  each  modula- 
tion of  her  cooing  voice;  and  then  I  set  over  against 
her  many  charms  my  own  awkwardness,  the  boorish- 
ness  of  my  manners,  and  my  ignorance  of  everything 


8o  DONALD  McELROY 

except  camp  life  and  public  topics.  I  longed  ar- 
dently for  that  polish  of  manner,  and  that  faculty 
of  polite  conversation  I  had  heretofore  esteemed  so 
lightly. 

There  were  no  girls  in  our  neighborhood  near  my 
own  age,  and  I  had  known  scarcely  any  other  women 
besides  those  of  our  own  family,  and  the  matrons 
of  our  church  congregation.  I  had  grown  up,  there- 
fore, like  a  maiden,  with  no  temptations,  and  small 
knowledge  of  passion,  and  later  my  mind  had  been 
so  fully  occupied  with  hunting,  studying,  Indians, 
and  public  matters,  that  all  the  vanities  and  snares 
of  youth  had  passed  me  by.  But  nature  is  not  easily 
starved  into  subserviency,  and  upon  the  first  oppor- 
tunity takes  vengeance  for  former  neglect  by  more 
violent  and  unreasoning  possession. 

So  madly  in  love  was  I  with  Nelly  Buford  before 
another  sunset  that  all  my  past  was  forgotten,  and 
all  my  future  weighed  as  naught.  I  cared  for  noth- 
ing, wished  for  nothing  but  to  be  with  her;  had  no 
dream  or  ambition  beyond  pleasing  her.  I  blushed 
when  she  spoke  to  me,  trembled  if  her  hand  or  her 
dress  touched  me,  and  could  scarcely  refrain  from 
kissing  the  handkerchief  she  now  and  then  let  fall, 
and  which  I  restored  to  her  with  a  sense  of  proud 
privilege.  I  scarcely  heard  the  remarks  of  Mrs. 
and  Colonel  Morgan,  but  every  word  Nelly  spoke 
was  registered  in  my  mind  and  conned  over  and  over 
like  a  lesson.  When  they  left  me  alone  with  her,  as 
they  often  did  —  for  they  were  daily  going  about  the 
place  together,  to  take  counsel  as  to  its  management 
during  the  Colonel's  absence  —  I  experienced  a  sort 
of  ecstasy  which  made  my  blood  surge  through  my 


'I  LAID  THE  FLORAL  WREATH  CAREFULLY  UPON  THE  BRIGHT  CURL:- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  81 

brains,  and  my  heart  flutter  as  if  I  were  frightened. 

Nor  was  Miss  Nelly  slow  to  perceive  my  infatua- 
tion, or  so  little  woman  as  to  fail  to  take  pleasure 
in  it.  I  think  she  beguiled  me,  indeed,  with  an  au- 
dacity she  would  not  have  dared  to  use  toward  a 
youth  more  worldly  wise,  or  more  experienced  in  the 
emotions  of  the  heart.  I  recall  one  instance  which 
will  illustrate  the  coquetry  which  she  practiced  for 
my  deeper  ensnaring.  We  were  walking  through 
the  orchard  flush  with  bloom,  when  she  stopped  be- 
neath a  low  boughed  apple  tree,  and  asked  me  to 
pluck  a  spray  for  her,  then  twisted  it  into  a  wreath, 
and  laughingly  bade  me  crown  her  queen  of  May. 
I  took  the  wreath  from  her  fingers,  and  would  have 
dropped  it  awkwardly  upon  her  blonde  curls  almost 
two  feet  below  me,  but  she  stopped  me  with  a  merry 
laugh,  and  said  in  playful  tones, 

"  How  stupid  you  are !  The  queen  must  be  en- 
throned before  she  is  crowned.  Help  me  to  a  seat 
upon  this  curving  limb,  and  then  I'll  be  just  high 
enough  for  you  to  lay  the  crown  upon  my  sacred 
head,  with  due  reverence  and  solemnity." 

I  lifted  her  to  the  bough  she  indicated,  and  when 
she  had  settled  herself  gracefully,  and  said  with 
pretty  affectation  of  dignity,  "  Now,  Sir  Knight,  the 
Queen  awaits  your  service,"  I  laid  the  floral  wreath 
carefully  upon  the  bright  curls,  and  would  have 
stepped  back  to  admire  its  effect,  only  something  in 
the  eyes  that  met  mine,  and  the  perfume  breathing 
lips,  which  were  on  a  level  with  my  own,  made  my 
head  reel,  the  blood  surge  in  my  ears,  and  many 
colored  motes  float  between  me  and  the  canopy  of 
blossom  bending  over  us.  In  another  instant  I  had 


82  DONALD  MCELROY 

kissed  her  full  upon  the  lips,  and  then  emboldened 
by  their  touch,  I  threw  my  arms  about  her,  and  kissed 
her  again  and  again,  upon  brow,  cheek,  eyes  and 
lips,  paying  no  heed  to  her  commands,  and  only  de- 
sisting when  she  began  tearfully  to  entreat  me. 

No  sooner  was  the  madness  passed  than  I  was 
deeply  penitent,  and  begged  her  forgiveness  so  hum- 
bly that  Nelly  gracefully  consented  to  pardon  me,  on 
condition  that  all  should  be  between  us  as  if  the 
incident  had  never  occurred.  My  promise  was 
easier  given  than  fulfilled,  however,  for  the  memory 
of  those  kisses  lingered  with  me  for  years,  and  came 
near  to  my  undoing.  Yet  I  never  again  entirely  lost 
self-control,  and  all  fear  of  consequences  in  a  wom- 
an's presence.  The  realization  of  the  strength  of 
this  heretofore  unknown  force  of  my  nature  sobered 
me  and  put  me  on  my  guard  against  myself,  in  future. 

Even  Colonel  Morgan  saw  presently  my  infatua- 
tion, and  tried  to  warn  me.  "  Nelly  is  a  pretty  lass, 
and  bewitching  enough,  in  all  conscience,"  he  said  to 
me,  one  morning  as  we  rode  over  the  place  together, 
"  but  I  fear,  lad,  she's  a  sad  coquette,  and  moreover 
she's  an  ardent  Tory.  It  was  not  she  I  meant  to 
pick  out  for  a  wife  for  you,  indeed  I  did  not  know 
we  should  find  her  here." 

"  A  Tory?     Is  she  not  your  wife's  cousin?  " 

"  Aye,  lad,  'tis  only  in  our  valley  that  all  men  are 
patriots.  Nelly  is  a  cousin  to  my  wife,  and  the  fam- 
ilies have  always  been  intimate;  but  the  Bufords  live 
in  Philadelphia,  are  well  to  do,  and  strong  Tories. 
The  stringent  orders  of  General  Washington  against 
English  sympathizers  compelled  Nelly's  brother  to 
join  the  British  army  and  Nelly  to  take  refuge  with 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  83 

us  —  her  mother  having  gone  to  New  York  to  nurse 
a  sister  who  is  ill." 

Colonel  Morgan's  warning  came  too  late,  how- 
ever, even  if  I  had  been  inclined  to  mix  politics  with 
love,  or  to  think  that  the  fact  of  a  woman's  opinion 
being  adverse  to  my  own  made  her  any  the  less  lov- 
able. Age  and  experience  are  needed  to  teach  a 
man  that  congeniality  of  mind  and  temperament 
count  more  for  happiness  in  the  marriage  relation 
than  the  sparkle  of  a  bright  eye,  or  the  enchanting 
curve  of  a  rosy  mouth.  But  I  was  disappointed,  and 
ventured  that  afternoon  to  sound  the  depths  of  my 
charmer's  disloyalty. 

"  Colonel  Morgan  tells  me  that  you  are  a  Tory, 
Miss  Nelly." 

"Yes,  and  why  not?" 

"  I  cannot  understand  how  an  American  citizen 
can  take  sides  with  the  oppressors  of  our  country." 

"  That  is  such  stuff  as  Colonel  Morgan  and  all 
you  self-styled  patriots  talk  —  saying  nothing  of  the 
ingratitude  of  turning  against  our  mother  land  that 
has  lavished  her  treasures  and  the  blood  of  her  sons, 
to  plant  and  protect  these  colonies;  nor  of  the  absurd 
folly  of  thinking  there  can  be  aught  else  but  defeat, 
and  years  of  poverty  before  us,  as  the  fruit  of  this 
rebellion.  Great  Britain  is  sure  to  win  in  the  end, 
and  then,  sir,  mayhap  you'll  be  glad  of  a  friend  at 
court.  It  were  well  to  treat  me  courteously,  and  my 
views  with  respect  while  I  am  forced  thus  to  take 
refuge  among  you  —  the  day  may  come  when  I  can 
return  the  favor,"  and  Miss  Nelly's  eyes  flashed, 
and  she  held  her  small  self  very  erect  in  her  chair. 
I  had  thought  her  all  gayety  and  softness,  and  this 


84  DONALD  MCELROY 

evidence  of  spirit  made  her  but  the  more  charming 
to  me. 

<k  At  all  events  let  us  not  quarrel,"  I  begged.  "  I 
trust  I  am  not  so  narrow  minded  as  to  be  unable  to 
recognize  that  there  may  be  something  to  say  on  the 
side  of  England,  especially  since  it  is  the  tyranny  of 
King  George  and  not  the  will  of  the  people  which 
oppresses  us.  But  I  can  never  agree  with  your  views 
nor  admit  the  probability  of  your  prophecy.  Should 
the  patriots  win,  as  they  will,  I  may  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  show  my  appreciation  of  the  offer  you  have 
just  made  me.  Meantime,  while  we  await  results, 
let  us  declare  a  truce  —  do  not  spoil  my  brief  holiday 
by  withdrawing  your  smiles." 

"  Since  you  put  it  so  gallantly,  I  must  consent  — 
truce  for  the  present,  alliance  for  the  future." 

"  Then  I  dread  nothing  the  future  holds  for  me  — 
even  defeat  would  be  tolerable  with  your  favor  to 
soften  it." 

"  You  may  hold  my  yarn,  Sir  Blarney,"  she 
laughed;  "  no  need  to  tell  me  there's  Irish  blood  in 
your  veins." 

So  I  held  her  yarn,  and  delayed  the  winding  proc- 
ess all  I  could,  that  she  might  be  the  longer  over  her 
task,  and  her  soft  finger  tips  touch  my  hands  the 
oftener  in  untangling  the  threads  I  snarled.  So  our 
first  quarrel  resulted  in  my  more  certain  entangle- 
ment in  the  net  of  Nelly's  wiles. 

The  sense  of  loneliness  and  regret,  of  distaste  for 
the  life  of  hardship  before  me  that  oppressed  me, 
as  we  took  horse  to  return  to  camp,  was  entirely  new 
to  me.  So  quickly  had  a  week  of  ease  and  luxury, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  85 

of  woman's  society,  and  idle  trifling  enervated  me! 
I  was  too  far  gone  even  to  have  proper  contempt  for 
myself,  and  rode  all  morning  by  Colonel  Morgan's 
side,  silent  and  morose,  answering  his  cheerful  talk 
with  rude  monosyllables. 

"  Look  here,  my  lad,"  said  the  Colonel,  after  a 
while,  u  I  fear  your  holiday  has  done  you  harm, 
rather  than  good.  I  meant  to  give  you  a  brief  rest 
and  change  that  would  hearten  you  for  the  work  be- 
fore you,  and,  if  instead  I've  led  you  into  a  snare, 
Donald,  I'm  very  sorry." 

"What  snare,  Colonel  Morgan?"  I  enquired 
somewhat  haughtily. 

"  The  snare  that  a  pretty  woman's  face  and  a 
frivolous  woman's  mind  has  laid  for  many  a  strong 
man  before  you,  Captain  McElroy,"  answered  Colo- 
nel Morgan,  "  but  I  obtrude  neither  admonition  nor 
advice,  sir,"  and  he  spurred  his  horse  forward  and 
rode  on  in  front  of  me. 

The  "  Captain  McElroy "  brought  me  to  my 
senses,  for  I  was  not  used  to  hearing  anything  but 
"  Donald  "  and  "  lad  "  from  his  lips.  I  felt  heart- 
ily ashamed  of  myself,  and  presently  spurred  to  his 
side,  and  humbly  begged  his  pardon. 

"  I  forgive  you  without  stint,  lad,"  he  answered 
me ;  "  your  feelings  are  very  natural,  and  'tis  hardly 
my  privilege  to  preach  to  any  young  man,  for  my 
own  youth  was  reckless  and  dissipated.  But  I  can 
say  with  knowledge  that  there  is  no  influence  a 
young  man  needs  so  much  to  dread  as  that  of  his 
own  ungoverned  passions,  and  none  he  should  so 
carefully  guard  against.  You've  heard  the  old 
hymn :  — 


86  DONALD  McELROY 

'  Lo,  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land 
'Twixt  Heaven  and  Hell  I  stand  ' ; 

"  Well,  if  there's  a  single  situation  in  life  these 
words  describe  it  is  that  point  in  a  young  man's  life 
when  he  makes  his  first  clear  decision  between  right 
and  desire,  between  yielding  himself  the  sport  of 
youthful  inclinations,  and  following  the  clean  path  of 
duty.  When  the  time  comes  for  you  to  win  hon- 
estly a  good  woman's  love,  she  will  be  very  proud 
and  glad  to  know  that  you  can  offer  her  an  unsullied 
manhood.  It's  the  one  thing  that  ever  comes  be- 
tween Abigail  and  me :  —  that  even  yet  I'm  ashamed 
to  tell  her  some  of  the  episodes  of  my  youth." 

"Thank  you,  Colonel!  I  shall  try  to  remember 
your  words." 

Remembering  was  easy  enough,  but  making  appli- 
cation was  more  difficult.  I  could  not  see,  then,  that 
Colonel  Morgan's  caution  applied  to  my  infatuation 
for  Nelly,  further  than  to  put  me  on  my  guard 
against  letting  that  infatuation  interfere  with  my 
steadfastness  and  courage  as  a  soldier.  I  took  the 
warning  to  heart,  therefore,  only  so  far  as  to  set  my 
face  sternly  toward  my  duty  again.  Its  true  appli- 
cation was  made  clear  to  me,  almost  too  late. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

There  was  little  time  for  moping  after  we  got 
back  to  headquarters,  for  on  the  very  next  day, 
Colonel  Morgan  issued  orders  to  his  captains  to  get 
their  companies  in  marching  order,  and  a  few  days 
later  we  filed  out  of  camp  in  double  column,  bands 
playing,  colors  flying,  and  our  faces  northward. 
The  men  cheered  us  as  we  passed,  for  Morgan's  rifle 
rangers  were  famous  by  this  time,  and  were  always 
greeted  vociferously. 

General  Gates  gave  us  an  enthusiastic  welcome 
when  we  came  up  with  him,  lying  intrenched  along 
the  Hudson  River  from  Stillwater  to  Halfmoon; 
and  from  the  first  he  paid  us  the  compliment  of 
giving  us  the  positions  of  greatest  danger  and  re- 
sponsibility, issuing  a  command  that  we  were  to  re- 
ceive orders  from  himself  alone.  It  was  ours  to  do 
most  of  the  scout  and  picket  duty  during  the  three 
weeks  that  the  British  army  waited  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  river  about  thirty  miles  above  us,  their 
rear  protected  by  Fort  Edward. 

Burgoyne  wearied  presently  of  inaction,  and  deter- 
mined to  wait  no  longer  for  Lord  Howe's  continu- 
ally delayed  reinforcements.  He  began,  too,  to  sus- 
pect that  his  position  was  fast  becoming  a  critical 
one,  for  news  now  reached  him  that  the  forces  of 
Baum  and  St.  Leger  had  been  destroyed  at  the 
battle  of  Oriskany,  and  that  the  attack  upon  Fort 


88  DONALD  McELROY 

Stanwix  had  failed,  so  that  the  blow  from  the  west 
could  no  longer  be  counted  on;  the  New  England 
militiamen  were  gathering  in  force  in  his  rear,  and 
his  Indian  and  Canadian  allies  —  frightened  it  was 
said  by  the  report  that  Morgan's  rifle  rangers  had 
joined  Gates  —  daily  deserted  him.  There  was  no 
alternative  left  to  General  Burgoyne  but  to  cross  the 
river  and  attack  Gates,  ere  this  time  well  fortified, 
by  the  skill  of  Kosciusko,  on  Bemis  Heights. 

For  six  days  longer,  Burgoyne  hesitated,  or 
awaited  reinforcements.  On  the  morning  of  Sep- 
tember the  nineteenth,  one  of  the  outlook,  stationed 
in  a  tree  top,  reported  a  movement  of  Burgoyne's 
army  which  indicated  a  concerted  rear  and  front 
attack  upon  our  position.  General  Gates  decided 
to  await  the  attack  behind  our  fortifications; 
but  Arnold,  who  commanded  our  left  wing,  argued 
vehemently  in  favor  of  a  charge  upon  Burgoyne's 
advance  column,  and  at  last  won  Gates'  consent  that 
he  should  lead  Morgan's  riflemen,  and  Dearborn's 
infantry  against  the  approaching  enemy.  The  rifle- 
men were  given  the  lead,  and  we  fell  upon  Bur- 
goyne with  telling  energy,  Morgan  all  the  time  ex- 
posing himself  recklessly,  and  shouting  encourage- 
ment to  his  men  above  the  incessant  crack  of  their 
rifles,  and  the  responsive  roar  of  the  enemy's  guns. 

It  was  a  picture  worth  seeing  —  our  regiment  in 
action,  their  tall  commanding  figures  in  their  hunts- 
men's garb  scattering  or  forming  as  the  ground  sug- 
gested, and  each  man  firing  as  coolly  as  if  he  had 
nothing  more  than  a  brace  of  partridges  in  range. 

We  had  been  but  a  short  while  in  action,  when 
General  Frazier  turned  eastward  to  help  General 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  89 

Burgoyne ;  and  Riedesel,  seeing  Burgoyne  was  hard 
pressed,  hurried  up  to  his  assistance  from  the  river 
road,  along  which  he  was  marching  to  attack  Gates' 
position,  in  front,  while,  as  they  had  planned,  Gen- 
erals Burgoyne  and  Frazier  should  simultaneously 
attack  our  position  in  rear.  We  had,  therefore, 
successively  diverted  the  entire  force,  marching  to 
charge  Bemis  Heights,  and  fought,  with  our  three 
thousand  backwoods  riflemen  and  raw  infantry,  four 
thousand  of  the  best  troops  in  the  British  army,  led 
by  their  bravest  and  most  skilled  officers. 

The  fight  was  waged  with  desperate  determination 
on  both  sides  for  two  hours,  while  Arnold  and  Mor- 
gan galloped  hither  and  thither,  animating  the  men 
by  their  voice,  presence,  and  example.  Again  and 
again  Arnold  sent  couriers  to  Gates  begging  for  re- 
enforcements,  and  assuring  him  that  with  two  thou- 
sand more  men  he  could  crush  the  army  of  Bur- 
goyne. But  the  self  opinionated  Gates,  who  pre- 
ferred to  lose  by  his  own  judgment,  rather  than  win 
by  any  other  man's,  sat  calmly  in  his  tent,  watching 
the  fight  below,  and  steadily  refused  us  assistance. 
In  defiance  of  his  narrow  stupidity  Arnold  fought  on 
till  dark,  and  though  Burgoyne  was  left  in  posses- 
sion of  the  battle  field,  he  had  lost  heavily,  and  his 
attack  upon  our  position  had  been  foiled.  We,  also, 
had  lost  heavily,  and  of  our  brave  riflemen  far  more 
than  we  could  by  any  means  afford  to  spare. 

General  Burgoyne  did  not  venture  another  at- 
tempt for  nearly  three  weeks.  Meanwhile  we  did 
not  lack  excitement  in  camp,  for  the  long  brewing 
difficulties  between  Gates  and  Arnold  came  rapidly 
to  a  head,  culminating  in  a  rash  speech  of  Gates 


90  DONALD  McELROY 

that  "  as  soon  as  General  Lincoln  should  arrive 
he  would  have  no  further  use  for  General  Arnold," 
and  the  withdrawal  from  Arnold's  command  of 
Morgan's  and  Dearborn's  regiments,  the  two  he 
counted  most  upon.  Arnold  was  furious  and  all  the 
officers  under  Gates,  except  two  or  three,  were  in- 
dignant. We  had  as  much  confidence  in  Arnold's 
courage  and  military  skill,  then,  as  we  had  doubt 
of  Gates  possessing  either  of  these  qualities.  Gen- 
eral Arnold  sent  in  his  resignation,  which  General 
Gates  accepted;  but  after  all  the  other  officers  had 
met  and  signed  a  petition  entreating  Arnold  to  re- 
main, he  was  induced  to  withdraw  his  resignation, 
and  Gates  submitted  sullenly. 

It  fell  also  to  the  lot  of  Morgan  and  Arnold  to 
check  the  second  concerted  movement  of  the  British, 
and  upon  almost  the  same  ground  as  before.  But 
the  second  battle  of  Freeman's  Farm  was  a  far  more 
decisive  victory  for  us.  Again  Morgan's  men  led 
the  attack,  were  the  first  men  on  the  field,  and  the 
last  to  withdraw.  This  might  well  be  called  the 
battle  of  the  Colonels,  for  until  General  Arnold  led 
the  famous  charge  upon  Frazier's  wavering  line  late 
in  the  afternoon,  which  completed  the  rout  of  the 
British,  no  officer  higher  in  command  than  a  colonel 
was  engaged  in  the  fight  on  our  side. 

General  Burgoyne  now  found  himself  surrounded 
by  the  American  army,  and  next  discovered  that 
every  ford  along  the  river  for  miles  was  strongly 
guarded  —  Gates  was  a  better  general  at  reaping  the 
fruits  of  others'  victories,  than  at  winning  them  for 
himself.  A  few  days  later  Burgoyne  asked  for 
terms  of  surrender,  and  on  the  seventeenth  of  Octo- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  91 

her  —  seven  was  our  lucky  number  during  this  cam- 
paign—  the  "Convention  of  Saratoga"  was  car- 
ried into  effect  by  the  British  army  marching  into  a 
meadow,  and  laying  down  their  arms,  while  General 
Burgoyne  handed  his  sword  to  General  Gates.  Our 
men  stayed  within  their  entrenchments,  not  caring  to 
look  upon  the  humiliation  of  a  brave  enemy,  and  not 
a  single  cheer  was  heard  as  the  disarmed  and  de- 
jected British  repassed  our  lines;  we  realized  then, 
as  more  than  once  afterwards,  that  Americans  and 
Britishers  could  never  really  be  enemies  and  that 
the  aims  and  destinies  of  Anglo-Saxon  peoples  were 
and  always  would  be  much  the  same. 

In  General  Gates'  report  of  the  surrender  he 
failed  to  mention  Colonel  Morgan's  name,  or  to  give 
any  credit  to  the  riflemen  for  the  important  service 
they  had  rendered.  A  few  days  after  the  capitula- 
tion, General  Gates  gave  a  dinner  to  a  large  number 
of  British  and  American  officers,  but  he  did  not  in- 
clude Colonel  Morgan.  During  the  progress  of  the 
dinner  Colonel  Morgan  was  compelled  to  make  some 
important  report  to  the  general  in  chief,  and  was 
ushered  into  the  banqueting  room.  He  saluted  for- 
mally, made  his  report,  and  withdrew. 

"  And  who,  General  Gates,  may  be  that  soldierly 
and  magnificent  looking  colonel?"  enquired  a  Brit- 
ish officer. 

"  It  is  Colonel  Morgan  of  the  Virginia  Riflemen," 
answered  Gates,  with  as  gracious  an  air  as  he  could 
command. 

"  What,  is  that  the  famous  Colonel  Morgan ! 
Pardon  me,  but  I  must  shake  hands  with  him,"  and 
he  rose  from  the  table,  and  followed  Morgan,  sev- 


92  DONALD  MCELROY 

eral  of  the  other  British  officers  doing  likewise,  thus 
compelling  General  Gates  to  recall  and  introduce 
him. 

"  Sir,"  said  General  Burgoyne,  "  you  command 
the  finest  regiment  in  the  world." 

Colonel  Morgan  proudly  repeated  this  to  his  men, 
and  each  man  of  the  regiment  treasured  it  in  his 
memory  to  the  end  of  his  life,  as  being  the  highest 
compliment  troops  could  receive,  for  it  came,  un- 
solicited, from  a  gallant  enemy. 

A  few  days  afterward  we  rejoined  the  main  army 
at  Whitemarsh,  Morgan's  command  taking  part  in 
the  battle  of  Chestnut  Hill.  It  was  there  I  got  my 
first  and  only  wound  during  the  Revolution,  and  was 
for  a  second  time  taken  prisoner.  I  was  leading  my 
men  in  a  headlong  charge  upon  the  enemy's  works, 
when  a  small  body  of  British  cavalry  dashed  sud- 
denly upon  us  from  an  unexpected  direction,  and 
threatened  to  cut  us  off  from  the  main  body  of  our 
troops;  I  gave  the  order  to  retreat  at  double  quick, 
and  remembered  no  more,  till  I  found  myself  a 
prisoner  with  a  bullet  in  my  left  thigh. 

The  next  day  I  was  taken  to  a  prison  hospital  in 
Philadelphia,  and  laid  on  a  straw  pallet  in  a  row 
of  other  groaning,  tossing,  half  delirious  unfortu- 
nates. For  some  days  —  I  lost  count  of  time  —  I 
lived  in  a  troubled  dream,  with  but  one  definite 
need,  one  clearly  defined  longing,  and  that  for  water. 
Oh,  for  a  fountain  of  cool  sweet  water,  that  I  might 
drink  and  drink,  then  rest  and  drink  again !  That 
which  some  one  brought  me  from  time  to  time  was 
muddy  and  flat,  but  I  drank  it  as  if  it  had  been  the 
ambrosial  cup  of  Jove,  and  in  the  confused  visions 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  93 

which  floated  in  and  out  of  my  mind,  there  was 
always  a  sparkling  spring  gushing  out  of  a  green 
hillside,  and  falling  with  a  splashing  sound  into  a 
pebble  paved  basin.  Sometimes  I  seemed  to  lie  flat 
upon  my  chest  in  the  cool  grass,  and  to  plunge  my 
head  into  the  cool  water.  Again  I  saw  the  spring,  as 
on  that  last  night  at  home,  silvered  by  the  moon's 
rays,  and  Ellen  standing  on  the  rock  above,  wrapped 
in  her  white  robe,  her  face  mystical  with  strange 
thoughts.  She  smiled  at  me,  and  gave  me  to  drink 
from  a  golden  cup  the  sweetest  water  I  had  ever 
quaffed. 

One  of  the  first  things  to  arouse  me  from  my 
semi-stupor  was  the  beseeching  cry  of  a  poor  lad, 
who  lay  on  the  pallet  next  mine,  for  u  water,  water," 
—  over  and  over  again,  in  tones  first  petulant  and 
insistent,  then  entreating  and  pitiful,  then  weary  and 
despairing.  The  next  time  the  bucket  and  dipper 
came  around,  I  begged  the  man  who  distributed 
our  dole  to  give  my  share  to  the  lad,  though  my 
throat  was  like  cast  iron  within,  and  my  heavy  tongue 
as  slick  as  if  coated  with  varnish.  The  boy  fell 
asleep  afterwards,  and  the  brief  quiet  of  his  tossing 
limbs  with  the  smile  his  dreams  brought  to  his  pale 
lips  so  rested  my  nerves,  as  to  enable  me  to  endure 
the  hours  which  ensued  before  the  next  bucketful 
was  distributed. 

"  This  is  Captain  McElroy,  I  believe,  sir,"  I 
heard  a  prison  official  say  one  day,  standing  over  my 
pallet  —  I  do  not  know  whether  it  was  morning  or 
afternoon,  or  how  many  days  after  I  had  been 
brought  to  the  hospital. 

"  Do  we  not  provide  better  accommodations  than 


94  DONALD  McELROY 

this  for  wounded  officers?  "  said  another  in  lowered 
voice. 

"  We  cannot  make  our  own  wounded  comfortable, 
Captain,"  answered  the  first;  "  we  must  do  as  we 
can  in  this  half  savage  country." 

I  opened  my  eyes  now,  and  met  those  of  a  slim 
young  man  in  British  uniform, — u  Can  you  tell  me, 
sir,"  he  asked,  "  where  I  may  find  Captain  Donald 
McElroy,  of  Morgan's  rifle  company?  " 

"  I'm  Captain  McElroy  of  the  Virginia  Riflemen, 
sir,"  and  I  sat  up  with  a  mighty  effort,  and  managed 
to  salute  him  with  a  trembling  hand. 

"  You  have  not  lost  your  pluck  with  your  strength, 
I  see,  Captain  McElroy,"  returning  my  salute;  "  I'm 
Captain  Buford,  a  brother  of  the  young  woman  you 
met  at  the  home  of  Colonel  Morgan,  last  April. 
Nelly  saw  your  name  in  the  list  of  wounded  prison- 
ers, several  days  ago,  and  has  waited  impatiently 
for  my  return  to  the  city,  that  she  might  set  me  to 
searching  for  you.  She  tells  me  that  you  two  en- 
tered into  a  friendly  compact,  pledging  each  other 
help  and  protection  while  the  war  lasts,  whenever 
one  is  needed,  and  the  other  possible.  It  was  your 
pleasure  once,  she  bade  me  say,  to  extend  courtesy 
to  a  Tory,  it  is  hers  now  to  show  her  appreciation 
of  that  courtesy,  and  also  of  the  valor  of  a  brave 
opponent, —  the  word  enemy  she  charged  me  not  to 
use." 

The  little  blood  left  in  my  body  all  mounted  to 
my  face,  and  I  knew  not  if  it  were  weakness,  or 
pleasure  that  made  my  brain  reel  so.  u  Will  you 
convey  to  your  sister  my  most  grateful  thanks,  Cap- 
tain Buford,  and  say  to  her  for  me  that  any  obliga- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  95 

tion  she  may  feel  to  my  friends  —  for  she  can  owe 
none  to  me,  since  she  but  honored  me  with  her  so- 
ciety —  is  doubly  discharged  by  her  gracious  inter- 
est in  my  fate.  If  it  is  in  my  power  to  do  so,  I  shall 
call  to  express  my  gratitude  in  person,  as  soon  as  I 
am  strong  enough.  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to 
leave  your  address  with  me?  "  But  I  had  used  up 
all  my  will  power,  in  this  long  speech,  which  had 
come  faltering  from  my  dry  throat,  and  now  I  fell 
back  on  my  pallet  almost  in  a  swoon  of  weakness. 

"  You  need  more  practical  assistance,  if  I  mistake 
not,  Captain  McElroy,  than  a  mere  expression  of 
interest.  And  our  Cousin  Abigail  will  never  forgive 
us  the  neglect  of  a  friend  of  her  husband.  If  it  is 
possible  to  get  permission,  and  I  think  there  will  be 
no  difficulty,  we  wish  to  take  you  to  our  house  as  a 
paroled  prisoner.  With  a  comfortable  bed,  and 
nourishing  diet  we  shall  have  you  well  in  no  time." 

"  I  am  too  unsightly  an  object  to  risk  being  seen 
by  your  mother  and  sister,  Captain  Buford  —  would 
it  not  be  well  to  wait  until  I  am  strong  enough  to  be 
shaven  and  dressed,"  I  protested,  weakly. 

"  You  need  only  fresh  garments,  and  a  comb  to 
be  entirely  presentable." 

"  Then  I  am  in  your  hands." 

When  Captain  Buford  returned,  he  was  accom- 
panied by  a  physician  and  his  own  body  servant,  and 
had  my  parole  in  his  hand.  The  last  he  showed  me, 
while  the  physician  administered  a  cordial  hardly 
more  stimulating,  after  which  the  negro  valet  made 
me  as  decent  in  appearance  as  my  state  permitted. 
Before  they  carried  me  to  the  ambulance  in  waiting, 
I  stopped  a  moment,  beside  the  lad's  pallet  to  say 


96  DONALD  McELROY 

good-by,  and  speak  a  cheering  word  to  him.  His 
fever  had  abated,  now,  but  I  feared  he  would  die 
of  exhaustion,  aided  by  extreme  dejection. 

"  Cheer  up,  comrade,"  I  said;  "my  friends  here 
have  promised  me  they  will  have  you  paroled  or 
exchanged,  if  you'll  only  set  your  mind  to  it,  and 
get  well." 

"  I'm  glad  for  your  good  luck,"  he  answered  wear- 
ily, u  but  I  don't  expect  to  hear  another  friendly 
voice  this  side  of  Heaven." 

"  That  is  not  soldier-like  talk,  lad  —  a  patriot 
must  learn  to  defy  suffering,  and  mischance." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  and  I'm  trying  to  learn  to  endure 
as  a  soldier  should,"  but  he  shut  his  eyes,  and  the 
weak  grasp  of  his  fingers  on  mine  relaxed. 

"That's  right,  lad,  keep  up  a  brave  heart;  my 
friends  will  not  forget  you." 

I  could  trust  myself  to  say  no  more,  and  as  I  took 
a  last  look  at  the  smooth,  girlish  face  of  the  lad,  I 
thought  with  a  fresh  heart  pang,  "  How  much  do  the 
horrors  of  war  outweigh  its  glories!  " 


CHAPTER  IX 

The  Buford  mansion  reached,  I  was  at  once  as- 
sisted to  my  room,  and  put  to  bed,  a  special  servant 
being  assigned  to  attend  upon  me.  A  week  later 
I  was  able  to  sit  up  each  morning  in  a  cushioned 
chair  before  my  cheerful  fire,  and  presently  to  walk 
about  my  room.  I  spent  many  of  my  waking  hours 
listening  to  the  voices  which  floated  up  to  me  from 
the  lower  floor,  trying  to  distinguish  Nelly's  gay 
sweet  tones  among  them.  Now  and  then  I  recog- 
nized a  light  footfall,  as  she  flitted  past  my  door, 
and  hoped  vainly  that  she  would  stop  to  speak  to 
me.  At  last  I  grew  desperate,  demanded  paper  and 
quill  of  my  man,  Hector,  and  wrote  this  in  scrawl- 
ing characters : 

"  Am  I  never  to  have  the  honor  and  privilege  of 
thanking  my  generous  deliverer?  The  weight  of  my 
gratitude  oppresses  me;  will  you  not  add  another 
deed  of  gracious  kindness  to  my  debt,  and  give  me 
the  opportunity  to  ease  my  soul  by  expressing  a  part 
of  the  thankfulness  and  devotion  which  fill  it  to  over- 
flowing? Only  let  me  see  you,  and  I  shall  be,  for 
as  long  as  it  pleases  you,  sweet  Nelly. 

"  Your  most  willing  captive, 

"  DONALD  MCELROY." 

Then  I  sealed,  and  addressed  the  note,  and  bade 
Hector  take  it  to  his  young  mistress.  He  came  back 


98  DONALD  McELROY 

in  a  few  moments  with  the  message  that  "  Miss 
Nelly  would  see  me  in  half  an  hour."  The  interim 
was  spent  by  me  in  making  as  careful  a  toilet  as  any 
young  girl  robing  for  her  first  ball.  I  had  had  Cap- 
tain Buford  purchase  for  me  two  suits  of  citizens' 
clothes  of  latest  cut  and  pattern,  and  I  flattered 
myself  that  the  plum  colored  breeches  and  coat,  the 
sprigged  velvet  waistcoat,  black  silk  stockings,  and 
silver  buckles  set  off  my  heroic  proportions  to  some 
advantage.  I  had  been  daily  clean  shaven  since  I 
had  been  strong  enough  to  stand  it,  and  my  "  curl- 
ing chestnut  locks,"  had  grown  long  enough  to  admit 
of  their  being  gathered  into  a  respectable  resem- 
blance to  a  queue,  which  I  tied  with  a  black  satin 
ribbon. 

Just  as  I  had  satisfied  myself  that  I  was  not  ill 
to  look  at,  a  liveried  footman  came  to  my  door  to 
say  that  Miss  Buford  awaited  me  in  the  second 
floor  reception  room,  and  that  I  was  to  follow  him 
thither.  I  found  her  standing  by  the  window,  a 
plume  covered  brown  felt  scoop  hiding  all  her  blonde 
head,  except  the  airy  curls  upon  her  forehead,  and 
about  her  throat  a  dark  fur  tippet,  from  which  her 
fair  face  rose,  like  a  flower  set  in  rich  leaves. 

"  I'm  just  going  out,  Captain  McElroy,"  she  said, 
after  she  had  given  me  a  gracious  greeting,  "  but  I 
could  not  resist  your  gallant  appeal,  nor  go  until  I 
had  relieved  you  of  your  heavy  burden  —  though 
I'm  sorry,  sir,  you  should  feel  it  as  a  burden,  the 
small  service  it  has  been  our  pleasure  to  render 
you." 

"  I  feel  not  your  kindness  as  a  burden,  Miss  Nelly, 
it  has  been  accepted  as  freely  as  bestowed  —  'twas 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  99 

the  longing  to  see  and  to  thank  you  that  I 
could  endure  no  longer.  I  have  now  no  further 
cause  for  unrest,  save  this  threat  of  yours  to  leave 
me,  before  I  have  had  time  to  clothe  my  gratitude 
in  adequate  words." 

"  Will't  say  you're  glad  I'm  a  Tory  —  and  that 
even  a  Tory  may  be  honest  and  a  Christian?  If  you 
will,  I  shall  call  it  fair  quittance  of  all  you  owe  me," 
and  she  laughed  the  rippling  saucy  laugh  that  had 
been  ringing  through  my  dreams  for  months. 

"  That  a  Tory  may  be  honest  and  a  Christian,  I 
admit  most  freely, —  but  that  I  am  glad  you  are  one 
is  more  than  I  can  say,  with  aught  of  truth.  I  would 
have  you  all  on  my  side  if  I  could;  still  more,  I 
would  have  no  one  with  half  so  good  a  claim  to  you 
as  I." 

"But  'tis  the  other  way,  Sir  Patriot  —  no  one 
else  has  so  good  a  claim  to  you  as  have  I ;  since  you 
are  my  paroled  prisoner.  Do  they  treat  you  well, 
poor  captive?  " 

"  As  an  honored  guest,  fair  jailer;  there's  but  one 
thing  lacking  to  my  comfort." 

"  And  what  may  that  be?     It  shall  be  supplied." 

"  A  daily  interview,  and  a  long  one,  with  my 
jailer." 

"  You  have  been  very  slow,  sir,  to  signify  a  wish 
to  see  her.  Two  weeks  ago  to-day  it  has  been  since 
you  came,  and  this  is  the  first  intimation  I  have  had 
that  my  presence  would  be  welcome." 

"  And  daily  I  have  hoped  you  would  stop  at  my 
threshold  to  ask  of  my  improvement  —  you  could 
not  fail  to  know  that  I  have  been  pining  for  one 
look  at  your  bright  face." 


ioo  DONALD  MCELROY 

"  Young  women  must  not  take  things  for  granted, 
sir;  you,  however,  are  not  like  the  British  officers 
and  the  city  macaronis,  you  are  both  honest  and 
modest,  and  if  you  have  not  made  great  haste  to 
be  gallant,  I  feel  sure  you  are  sincere.  But  I  must 
say  good-by  for  the  present,  a  skating  party  waits 
for  me,  down  stairs." 

"  When  may  I  hope  to  see  you  again?  " 

"  To-morrow,  if  you  wish." 

"At  what  hour,  that  I  may  count  the  min- 
utes!" 

"  Eleven  o'clock,  shall  we  say?  If  I  might  read 
to  you  an  hour  each  morning,  would  that  help  you 
to  pass  less  irksomely  the  tedious  days  of  your  cap- 
tivity? " 

She  called  this  back  to  me  over  her  shoulder,  her 
saucy  face  fairer  for  its  frame  of  soft  plumes  and 
rich  fur. 

"  'Twould  make  me  rejoice  in  the  midst  of  my 
misfortunes,  most  merciful  jailer,"  I  answered, 
striking  an  attitude  with  my  hand  upon  my  heart. 

The  hours  crawled  by  like  a  slow  procession  of 
half  torpid  serpents  till  I  fell  asleep,  and  the  next 
morning  passed  in  eager  expectancy. 

"  Which  of  these  shall  I  read  from?  "  began  Miss 
Nelly,  entering  the  small  reception  room  with  her 
arms  full  of  books. 

"  I  have  chosen  a  variety,  one  of  which  will,  I 
hope,  suit  both  your  taste  and  your  mood.  Here  is 
Ossian,  if  your  literary  appetite  calls  for  the  mystic 
and  lyric;  or  Pope  if  it  demands  the  caustic  and 
humorous;  or  Lady  Mary  Montague  if  you  have  a 
weakness  for  gossip;  or  Shakespeare's  '  Romeo  and 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  101 

Juliet,'  Ben  Jonson's  '  Mourning  Bride,'  should  your 
mood  be  tragic;  or  'Evelina,'  the  most  popular  of 
the  new  novels,  if  you  have  a  fancy  for  fiction. 
Which  shall  it  be  this  morning?" 

"  First,  a  few  extracts  from  Ossian,  then,  a  bit 
of  Lady  Mary,  and  lastly,  a  chapter  from  the  new 
novel,"  I  answered  with  shameless  greed. 

But  we  did  not  get  to  the  novel  that  morning,  for 
the  reading  of  Ossian  ended  in  an  animated  discus- 
sion of  the  claims  of  McPherson  that  his  poems 
were  a  genuine  translation  from  the  old  Gaelic.  I 
strongly  maintained,  that  the  true  spirit  of  the  an- 
cient Gaelic  people  was  in  these  poems,  and  that  it 
would  be  well  nigh  impossible  for  a  modern  to  con- 
ceive or  to  reproduce  the  feelings  and  sentiments 
of  these  primitive  bards  with  such  absolute  truth 
of  conception.  Miss  Nelly,  however,  held  stoutly 
to  the  views  of  the  critics,  as  became  her  conser- 
vative habit  of  mind. 

Then  came  a  few  extracts  from  "  Lady  Mary  " 
after  which  she  seemed  weary,  so  that  I  picked  up 
her  volume  of  plays  and  read  from  it  some  of  my 
favorite  quotations. 

"  Why,  Captain  McElroy,"  she  exclaimed,  "  you 
read  well.  After  this  you  shall  read  to  me,  sir, 
while  I  finish  hemstitching  my  ruffles." 

"  I  have  a  favor  to  ask  of  you,  Captain  McElroy," 
said  Miss  Nelly  one  morning  when  my  hour  of  bliss 
was  about  to  end.  "  I  want  you  to  take  a  part  in 
the  play  we  are  rehearsing, — 'tis  the  latest  comedy 
written  by  the  late  great  London  playwright,  Sheri- 
dan, and  you  could  do  the  part  of  Sir  Peter  Teazle 
to  perfection." 


102  DONALD  MCELROY 

"  But  I  have  never  so  much  as  seen  a  play,  Miss 
Nelly,"  I  answered  in  consternation. 

"  Never  mind  that,  you  will  be  sure  to  say  your 
lines  with  true  expression,  and  the  rest  I  can  teach 
you.  Do  consent,  Sir  Patriot,  I  have  told  the  girls 
and  the  British  officers  about  you,  and  they  all  de- 
sire greatly  to  meet  you ;  even  the  belle  and  beauty, 
Miss  Margaret  Shippen,  said  last  evening  to  me, 
'  I  hear,  Miss  Nelly,  you  have  captured  a  rebel  cap- 
tain, and  hold  him  imprisoned  in  your  castle  —  are 
not  we  to  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  him?  'Tis 
said  he  is  a  Goliath  for  size;  a  David  for  skill, 
though  with  rifle  instead  of  sling;  and  an  Absalom 
for  beauty  of  person.'  Now,  Sir,  can  you  resist  a 
compliment  like  that  from  the  fairest  Tory  maiden 
in  Philadelphia;  will  you  not  come  in  the  drawing 
room  this  evening,  and  be  introduced  to  her?  " 

"  And  meet  British  officers,  who  might  resent  my 
impertinence !  " 

"  All  who  come  to  this  house  are  gentlemen,  sir 
—  nor  would  they  show  the  least  disrespect  to  a 
friend  of  mine." 

"  I  am  not  fit  for  polite  society,  Miss  Nelly,  and 
I  wish  not  to  play  the  part  of  Samson  —  to  make 
sport  for  my  enemies." 

"  The  suggestion  is  insulting,  Captain  McElroy, 
and  I  urge  you  no  more,"  and  Miss  Nelly  left  the 
room,  her  head  poised  haughtily.  Next  morning 
she  did  not  join  me  in  the  library  at  the  usual  time, 
and  after  an  hour's  waiting  I  sent  to  beg  her  pres- 
ence. 

"  I  apologize  with  deep  humility  of  soul  for  my 
rudeness  of  yesterday,"  I  said,  as  soon  as  she  came 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  103 

in.  "  I'll  meet  your  friends  gladly,  and  try  the  part 
of  Sir  Peter  if  'twill  gratify  you.  Do  not  I  owe  my 
life  to  you,  and  have  you  not  made  my  very  cap- 
tivity a  time  of  delight?  Will  you  not  forgive  me, 
since  the  speech  was  prompted  by  the  stupidity  of  a 
blunt  soldier,  and  not  by  any  doubt  of  you  or  your 
friends?" 

"  Only  upon  condition  that  you  stop  abusing  your- 
self, will  I  forgive  you,  sir,  and  moreover  that  you 
speak  before  these  British,  and  Tory  friends  of  mine 
with  the  same  bold  spirit  of  independence  you  have 
ever  used  to  me.  I  like  you  for  it,  though,  at  times, 
it  nettles  me." 

u  You  need  have  no  fear  of  that,"  I  laughed, 
"  but  I  shall  endeavor  so  to  act  that  you  may  not 
blush  for  having  honored  me  with  the  name  of 
friend." 

"  You  know  well  that  I  shall  be  proud  of  you, 
Captain  McElroy,  there's  not  so  handsome  a  man 
in  the  British  army.  I  would  give  a  great  deal 
to  see  you  in  a  British  captain's  uniform,  that  I 
might  show  them  such  men  as  this  land,  which  they 
sometimes  flaunt  and  laugh  at,  produces.  Though 
a  Tory,  Captain  McElroy,  I  love  America,  and 
Americans,  and  allow  no  one  to  slur  either  at  our 
country,  or  our  people." 

O  wily,  bewitching  Nelly;  how  was  it  possible 
to  resist  you.  And  yet  I  cannot  believe  that  you 
were  from  the  first  playing  a  part,  nor  that  you 
coldly  schemed  to  entrap  me.  You  were  my  true 
friend  when  much  I  needed  one,  and  if  afterward  you 
became  a  snare,  it  was  greatly  my  own  fault. 

[That  evening  I  donned  my  best,  having  sent  Hec- 


104  DONALD  McELROY 

tor  out  to  purchase  a  white  silk  vest  embroidered 
with  pink  rosebuds,  and  a  white  silk,  lace  trimmed 
stock,  that  I  might  be  behind  none  of  the  macaronis, 
nor  give  the  foppish  British  officers  cause  to  scoff 
at  my  provincial  appearance.  A  man  of  gentle 
blood  and  sound  principles  needs  scant  time  for  ac- 
quiring society  polish,  and  by  saying  little,  and 
watching  and  listening  closely,  I  soon  learned  the 
approved  ways  of  doing  the  little  things.  They 
thought  me  shy,  and  kindly  left  me  a  good  deal  to 
myself,  at  first.  Miss  Shippen  —  a  stately,  beauti- 
ful, and  most  gracious  mannered  maiden  —  called 
me  to  her  side  the  second  evening,  and  entered  into 
a  conversation  in  regard  to  the  comedy.  "  Like  you 
the  part  of  Sir  Peter?  "  she  asked. 

"  Rather  better  than  any  of  the  others,  I  think." 

"  Then  I  infer  you  do  not  find  the  other  characters 
to  your  liking?  "  and  she  smiled,  and  glanced  side- 
ways at  the  officer  who  sat  on  her  other  hand. 

"  The  comedy  is  doubtless  a  fine  satire  upon  cer- 
tain gay  London  circles,"  I  replied,  "  but  there  are 
but  two  characters  one  can  like.  Maria,  and  Sir 
Peter,  and  both  are  shamefully  cozened.  I  must  ex- 
cept too  the  old  uncle,  he  is  quite  likable." 

"  And  you  like  not  that  fascinating  rake,  Charles 
Surface,  nor  delicious  Lady  Teazle,  with  her  bois- 
terous snobbery,  and  her  irrepressible  good  na- 
ture? Are  you  of  Quaker  faith,  Captain  McEl- 
roy?" 

"  No,  Miss  Shippen,  I'm  a  Scotch  Irish  Presby- 
terian." 

"  Then  we  shall  shock  you,  I  fear." 

"  But  whatever  may  be  your  religious  views,  sir, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  105 

you  wish  surely  to  know  something  of  life?  "  put  in 
the  British  officer,  a  well  made  blonde  man  with 
straight  nose,  and  large  mouth.  "  Would  you  take 
advantage  of  your  present  opportunities,  you  shall 
learn  things  you  have  not  dreamed  of  in  your  moun- 
tain wilds." 

"  Adventure  has  ever  appealed  to  me,  sir,  and 
lately  my  life  has  been  o'er  tame,"  I  answered,  de- 
termined to  be  no  milksop  among  these  British. 
"  So  you  do  not  ask  me  to  go  a  backbiting  with  Sir 
Benjamin,  and  the  rest,  there's  little  you  can  offer 
me,  promising  excitement,  that  you  will  not  find  me 
ready  for." 

"  Glad  am  I  to  hear  it,  Mr.  McElroy  — 

"  Captain  McElroy,  an'  you  please ;  having  won 
my  humble  title  by  hard  service,  and  not  by  court 
favor,  I  am  very  proud  of  it,  sir." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,"  somewhat  haughtily;  "  I  was 
about  to  say  I  like  not  a  soldier,  Captain  McElroy, 
who  cants  and  prays  between  battles,  as  did  the 
hypocritical  Cromwellians.  A  gay  life  in  barracks  is 
proper  reward  for  arduous  work  during  a  campaign ; 
—  to-morrow,  an'  you  will,  I  shall  call  to  take  you 
to  our  quarters,  where  you  may  lunch  with  four  as 
jolly  good  fellows  as  are  to  be  found  in  the  British 
army." 

I  had  just  assented  to  this  invitation  of  Captain 
Wheaton's,  when  Miss  Shippen  introduced  me  to  the 
latest  comer,  as  Colonel  Forbes;  he  was  a  small, 
wiry,  swarthy  man  who  had  been  making  the  round 
of  the  room,  and  now  leaned  over  Miss  Shippen's 
chair,  whispering  in  her  ear. 

"  One  of  Morgan's  Riflemen,  said  you,  Miss  Mar- 


106  DONALD  McELROY 

garet?  "  eyeing  me  with  most  evident  curiosity,  as  I 
rose  to  return  his  salutation;  u  a  famous  leader,  and 
brave  troops;  they  did  the  work  for  us  at  Saratoga. 
To  your  colonel  and  his  men  belongs  the  glory  of 
that  victory,  Captain  McElroy  —  yet  I  hear  it  has 
been  filched  from  you  by  that  braggart  Gates,  and 
that  Colonel  Morgan  has  not  even  been  accorded 
a  promotion.  This  so-called  Continental  Congress 
knows  naught  of  the  art  of  warfare,  nor  can  recog- 
nize the  qualities  of  a  true  leader,  or  else  it  has  its 
favorites  whom  it  is  determined  to  advance,  regard- 
less of  merit." 

Though  all  this  was  true,  I  burned  inwardly  to 
hear  him  say  it;  determined,  however,  to  repress  the 
rash  words  which  rose  to  my  lips,  I  set  them  firmly, 
folded  my  arms,  and  bowed  in  grave  silence. 

"  Captain  Morgan  is  devotedly  loved  by  his  men, 
I  hear,"  put  in  Miss  Shippen.  "  Is  he  very  genial 
with  them,  Captain  McElroy?  " 

"He  treats  them  as  sons,  or  as  brothers;  there's 
not  one  but  would  follow  him  cheerfully  to  certain 
death." 

"  But,"  said  Miss  Shippen,  "  I  am  much  more  in- 
terested in  the  comedy,  than  in  any  talk  of  war,  or 
comparison  of  leaders,  for  Captain  McElroy  it  is  I 
who  am  to  act  Maria  —  do  you  not  think  I'll  look 
and  act  the  character  to  the  life?  " 

"  To  perfection,  and  now  I  wish  I  were  to  play 
Charles  Surface." 

"  Hear  him,  Nelly,"  called  Miss  Shippen  to  that 
young  lady,  crossing  the  room  to  the  spinet,  attended 
by  half  a  dozen  gallants.  "  He  pretends  to  wish 
that  he  were  going  to  be  Charles  Surface  in  our 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  107 

comedy,  didst  ever  hear  of  such  shameless  deceit?" 
"  Or  such  base  ingratitude,  for  I  see  he  has  already 
transferred  his  allegiance  —  but  why  should  we  be 
surprised  by  any  fresh  evidence  of  masculine  per- 
fidy —  have  we  not  long  since  learned  that  *  Men 
were  deceivers  ever  '  ?  "  and  Nelly's  manner  and  tone 
showed  that  she  would  be  no  amateur  upon  the 
stage. 

"  And  women  were  ever  our  innocent  victims,  I 
suppose.  There's  not  a  coquette  among  you ! " 
jeered  Captain  Buford,  who  had  just  joined  our 
circle,  a  brown  haired  Quakeress  upon  his  arm,  who 
was  going  to  sing  duets  with  Miss  Nelly. 

"  We  but  use  nature's  weapons  for  our  just  de- 
fense, Captain  Buford,"  answered  Miss  Shippen. 
"  The  more  skillful  and  wary  one's  enemy,  the  more 
adroit  one  needs  be.  Women  have  learned  to 
guard,  to  parry,  and  to  thrust  by  long  practice  in  the 
art  of  self-defense." 

The  lunch  in  Captain  Wheaton's  quarters  the  next 
day  was  not  the  last  of  the  entertainments  proffered 
me  by  my  hospitable  enemies,  especially  by  Buford's 
and  Wheaton's  mess.  Not  only  did  I  lunch  with 
them,  dine  with  them,  and  drink  with  them ;  I  also 
diced  and  played  with  them,  and  was  invited  to  join 
their  riding  parties.  Once  Wheaton,  who  seemed 
to  have  conceived  a  liking  for  me  which  I  returned 
heartily,  carelessly  allowed  me  to  inspect  with  him 
the  city's  fortifications,  and  to  see  how  inadequate 
they  were  to  resist  attack  from  any  strong,  well 
equipped  force.  Afterwards  this  incident,  which 
was  purely  accidental,  and  seemed  of  small  import- 


io8  DONALD  McELROY 

ance  as  I  thought  at  the  time,  counted  heavily  against 
me,  and  proved  to  be  the  small  silent  hinge  on  which 
turned  the  door  opening  to  me  the  high  road  of  my 
destiny.  Far  more  important  events  have  turned 
upon  still  smaller  hinges. 

The  British  soldiers  were  most  of  them  fine  sol- 
diers, and  genial  comrades,  and  their  treatment  of 
me  was  all  courtesy  and  kindness.  Through  an  odd 
streak  of  luck  attending  me,  for  surely  skill  had 
nothing  to  do  with  my  triumph,  I  won  at  nearly  all 
the  games  of  chance  so  prevalent  among  them. 
Quinze,  Piquet,  Hazard,  and  other  games,  besides 
all  sorts  of  wild  betting,  were  their  chief  diversions. 
They  even  bet  at  whist,  a  slow,  deep  thinking  game, 
well  worth  the  playing  without  a  wager.  Whatever 
the  game,  I  won  indifferently,  and  soon  my  depleted 
pockets  jingled  merrily  with  English  gold  pieces. 

"  The  Scotchman's  luck  "  became  a  proverb  in  the 
captain's  messes.  But  in  all  the  dissipation  of  that 
time  I  was  watchful  never  to  drink  to  excess.  I  am 
not  fanatical  against  strong  drinks,  and  to  this  day 
can  find  no  harm  in  one's  warming  and  cheering  him- 
self with  a  cup  of  good  sack,  or  a  finger  of  rum,  but 
it  has  ever  filled  me  with  disgust  to  see  a  man's  legs 
wabbling  and  tangling  as  he  walked,  and  to  hear 
maudlin  words  mixing  themselves  in  unintelligible 
gibberish  upon  a  thick  and  lolling  tongue. 

And  all  this  time  my  infatuation  for  Nelly  Buford 
took  daily  stronger  possession  of  me.  I  spent  in 
her  society  every  hour  she  would  allow  me,  and 
became  the  slave  of  each  of  her  pretty,  womanish 
caprices.  Her  deference  to  me  as  her  captive  guest 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  109 

led  me  on  as  subtly  as  her  coquetry,  and  so  little  skill 
or  wish  had  I  to  hide  my  infatuation,  that  I  must 
have  seemed  to  all  Miss  Nelly's  acquaintances  to 
stand  to  her  in  the  attitude  of  an  accepted  lover. 
Once  or  twice  I  did  venture  to  tell  her  that  I  loved 
her,  but  was  easily  checked  by  a  doubting  word,  or 
an  attempt  to  change  the  subject.  Now,  at  any  rate, 
I  considered,  I  could  not  ask  her  to  marry  me,  and 
to  avow  my  love  for  other  purposes  were  dishonor- 
able. I  yet  had  not  the  courage  to  resign  hope, 
nor  the  will  to  see  less  of  her. 

My  habit  to  drink  sparingly  has  more  than  once 
stood  me  in  good  stead,  but  never  more  so  than  at  a 
banquet  given  to  General  Howe  by  the  officers, 
about  the  first  of  February,  to  which  I  was  most 
graciously  invited;  and  to  which,  being  urged  by  Bu- 
ford  and  Wheaton,  I  foolishly  consented  to  go.  I 
did  not  realize  the  unpleasantness  of  the  position  in 
which  I  had  put  myself  until  the  time  came  for  toasts 
and  speeches.  First  the  health  of  the  king  was 
drunk  with  enthusiasm,  all  standing  with  heads  held 
proudly,  and  brimming  glasses  tossed  high,  while  a 
lusty  cheer  went  up  from  many  throats.  I  stood, 
also,  not  to  make  myself  conspicuous,  but  neither 
drank  nor  cheered.  To  General  Howe's  health,  I 
drank  for  courtesy's  sake,  but  when  "  Success  to 
British  arms  "  was  proposed,  I  found  my  stock  of 
politeness  completely  exhausted,  and  sat  down 
abruptly,  to  the  amusement  of  Forbes  on  my  left 
and  the  scorn  of  the  officer  opposite. 

And  now  began  the  serious  business  of  the  even- 
ing; brave  soldiers,  and  cultivated  gentlemen  set 
themselves  valorously  to  the  task  of  drinking  each 


no  DONALD  MCELROY 

other  under  the  table;  as  gradually  they  waxed  up- 
roarious, free  talk  was  interchanged  as  to  the  sup- 
posed plans  of  the  British  government,  and  its  un- 
swerving determination  to  subdue  the  revolting  col- 
onies at  whatever  cost  of  men  or  money.  Meantime 
Colonel  Forbes  and  the  captain  next  to  him  diverted 
me  from  the  general  talk  by  asking  questions  as  to 
the  part  Morgan  and  his  men  had  taken  in  the  at- 
tack against  Quebec,  and  the  battles  which  led  to 
Saratoga;  throwing  in  frequent  adroit  compliments 
to  the  riflemen,  and  expressions  of  admiration  and 
sympathy  for  Colonel  Morgan.  Finding  me  non- 
committal as  to  the  treatment  Arnold  and  Morgan 
had  received  from  the  Continental  Congress,  they 
branched  off  into  an  argument  meant  to  convince 
me  of  the  hopelessness  of  our  cause,  and  the  use- 
lessness  of  sacrificing  life  and  property  by  further 
resistance;  declaring  that  Great  Britain  was  willing 
to  yield  all  we  asked  and  wanted,  short  of  complete 
independence,  and  that  only  a  few  fanatics  believed 
that  to  be  possible,  or  desirable. 

To  this  I  responded,  with  perfect  calmness,  that 
nothing  less  than  complete  independence  from  auto- 
cratic will  would  satisfy  the  American  people  and 
that  since  we  could  never  be  conquered  at  such  dis- 
tance it  would  be  wiser  to  grant  us  the  independence 
we  claimed  and  to  make  of  us  loyal  allies.  That  we 
were  not  warring  against  the  British  nation  which 
we  honored  and  esteemed  above  all  pther  souls,  but 
against  the  tyrannical  notions  of  the  King  and  his 
courtiers,  themselves  aliens  to  the  English  blood. 
That  our  independence  would  but  hasten  theirs  and 
bring  the  sooner  that  freedom  of  the  human  race 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  in 

and  that  universal  democracy  which  was  the  dream 
of  all  true  men  and  real  patriots.  Indeed,  I  affirmed, 
waxing  more  and  more  enthusiastic  for  my  most 
cherished  belief,  "  It  would  yet  be  the  proud  privi- 
lege of  England  and  America  to  stand  side  by  side 
for  the  cause  of  liberty  and  self-government." 

Colonel  Forbes  but  laughed  at  my  wild  theories 
and  as  he  got  drunker  and  drunker  grew  more  and 
more  friendly  'til,  presently,  he  wished  I  were  his 
comrade,  since  I  was  too  good  a  fellow  for  a  rebel; 
and  then,  with  the  effusive  confidence  of  a  man  deep 
in  his  cups,  began  a  jumble  of  protestations  and  in- 
sinuations, hinting  at  the  high  honors,  and  rich  emol- 
uments which  awaited  me  if  I  would  only  consent  to 
give  up  my  foolish  devotion  to  rebellion  and  become 
once  more  a  loyal  British  subject. 

I  thought  his  talk  but  the  foolish  babble  of  a 
drunken  man,  and  turned  it  aside  with  jest  and  ban- 
ter. 

When  presently  the  more  sober  arose  to  depart, 
the  officer  who  had  sat  next  to  Colonel  Forbes,  and 
who,  since  the  latter  had  waxed  so  confidential,  had 
lapsed  into  silence,  took  me  by  the  arm  and  asked 
me  to  go  with  him  to  a  small  cloak  room  adjoining 
the  banqueting  hall. 

"  Captain  McElroy,"  he  said  when  we  were  seated 
and  alone,  "  Colonel  Forbes  has  prematurely  made 
you  an  offer  we  have  been  contemplating  for  some 
days,  and  in  regard  to  which  I  was  authorized  to 
sound  you.  We  have  good  reason  to  believe  there 
is  an  officer  in  the  rebel  ranks  well  affected  to  our 
cause;  we  need  some  one  who  can  freely  communi- 
cate with  him  —  if  you  will  consent  to  help  us,  a 


n2  DONALD  MCELROY 

captain's  commission  in  the  British  army,  with  prom- 
ise of  speedy  promotion,  and  any  sum  of  ready 
money  you  may  name  is  yours.  Only  sign  this  paper, 
and  the  compact  is  closed." 

I  took  the  paper  he  handed  me,  opened  and  read 
it,  then  rose  to  my  feet,  and  slowly  tore  it  into  bits, 
throwing  them,  as  I  did  so,  into  the  fire. 

"  Captain  Forsythe,"  I  said,  while  my  hand  and 
my  voice  shook  with  the  strain  I  put  upon  myself 
to  control  my  anger,  "  you  and  others  have  evidently 
mistaken  me  for  a  villain  of  that  low  and  despicable 
type  capable  of  treason  to  his  country.  For  the 
present  I  condone  the  insult  for  the  sake  of  other 
British  officers  who  have  seemed  to  consider  me  a 
man  of  honor.  I  bid  you  good  night,  sir,"  and 
reaching  for  cloak  and  hat,  I  hastened  into  the 
street,  where  the  freshness  and  purity  of  the  early 
morning  air  and  the  calming  message  of  the  stead- 
fast stars  —  shining  on  in  their  clear,  soft  beauty, 
whether  men  pray  and  sleep  like  Christians,  or  dice 
and  plot,  and  drink  like  devils,  on  the  changeful 
earth  beneath  them  —  cooled  my  fevered  brow,  and 
helped  me  to  restrain  a  seething  desire  to  take  vio- 
lent vengeance  upon  my  insulter.  But  I  realized 
clearly  the  foolhardiness  of  such  course,  and  more- 
over the  ingratitude  and  disrespect  to  my  friends  it 
would  seem  to  imply. 


'You  HAVE  EVIDENTLY  MISTAKEN  ME  FOR  A  VILLAIN." 


CHAPTER  X 

The  second  evening  after  the  banquet  was  the  one 
set  for  the  performance  of  our  carefully  rehearsed 
comedy,  and  all  the  Tory  society  of  Philadelphia 
was  agog  with  interest  and  curiosity  to  see  the  latest 
London  hit,  played  by  the  belles  of  the  city  and 
the  most  popular  of  the  British  officers.  I  was  told, 
moreover,  that  the  story  had  gone  abroad  that  the 
part  of  Sir  Peter  would  be  taken  by  a  youthful  Vir- 
ginia mountaineer,  whose  giant  proportions  and  un- 
usual gifts  of  person  and  bearing  —  considering  his 
backwoods  breeding  —  made  him  the  feature  of  the 
performance.  I  was  no  little  annoyed  by  this  talk, 
though  I  credited  Wheaton,  who  retailed  it  to  me, 
with  a  good  deal  of  bantering  exaggeration.  In 
truth,  being  still  sore  from  the  insult  offered  me  at 
the  banquet,  I  wanted  to  throw  up  my  part;  but, 
after  consideration  of  the  difficulties  it  would  entail 
upon  my  entertainers,  and  others  who  had  been 
courteous  to  me,  I  forced  myself  to  stick  to  my  role 
cheerfully,  and  to  do  my  best  at  it. 

Rigged  out  in  all  the  toggery  of  a  stage  Sir  Peter, 
I  presented  myself  to  Miss  Nelly.  "  Perfect,"  she 
exclaimed  taking  me  by  the  elbow  with  the  tips  of 
her  fingers,  and  slowly  turning  me  around  at  arm's 
length,  while  she  inspected  critically  my  pompous 
finery.  "  Now  must  they  all  admit  that  there's  not 
so  handsome  a  figure  of  a  man  in  the  British  army," 


u4  DONALD  MCELROY 

and  she  nodded  approval  bewitchingly,  with  her 
puffed,  powdered,  and  plumed  head.  She  was  alto- 
gether charming  in  her  rich  brocade  gown  and  yel- 
low laces,  and  I  managed  to  tell  her  so  in  words 
that  pleased  her. 

The  play  was  pronounced  a  London  success,  and 
the  players  universally  complimented.  Twice  were 
Lady  Teazle  and  Sir  Peter  called  before  the  cur- 
tain, and  such  flattering  compliments  were  showered 
upon  me  in  the  green  room  that  I  was  quite  puffed 
with  vanity  and  forgot  my  inward  soreness.  After 
the  performance,  Colonel  Forbes  entertained  the 
players  at  a  supper  where  sherry,  Burgundy,  arid 
sparkling  white  wines  of  France  were  as  free  as 
spring  water.  Wheaton  was  made  to  sing  his  hit 
of  the  evening  —  Sheridan's  jolly  drinking  song  over 
again,  and  did  so  with  even  better  voice  and  expres- 
sion. 

"  Here's  to  the  maiden  of  bashful  fifteen, 
Here's  to  the  widow  of  fifty, 
Here's  to  the  flaunting,  extravagant  queen 
And  here's  to  the  housewife  that's  thrifty. 

(And  all  joined  in  the  chorus :  — ) 

"  Let  the  toast  pass, 
Drink  to  the  lass, 
I'll  warrant  she'll  prove  an  excuse  for  the  glass. 

"  Here's  to  the  charmer  whose  dimples  we  prize, 
Now  to  the  maid  who  has  none,  sir; 
Here's  to  the  girl  with  a  pair  of  blue  eyes, 
And  here's  to  the  nymph  with  but  one,  sir. 

"  Let  the  toast  pass,  etc. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  115 

"  Here's  to  the  maid  with  a  bosom  of  snow, 
Now  to  her  that's  as  brown  as  a  berry; 
Here's  to  the  wife  with  a  face  full  of  woe, 
And  now  to  the  girl  that  is  merry. 

"  Let  the  toast  pass,  etc. 

"  For  let  them  be  clumsy,  or  let  them  be  slim, 
Young  or  ancient,  I  care  not  a  feather, 
So  fill  a  pint  bottle  quite  up  to  the  brim 
And  let  us  e'en  toast  them  together. 

"  Let  the  toast  pass,  etc." 

Even  Miss  Nelly,  and  the  stately  Miss  Shippen 
had  drunken  till  their  fair  faces  were  a  little  flushed, 
and  they  joined  with  noticeable  abandon  in  the  cho- 
rus. The  men  presently  became  too  hilarious,  there 
being  ladies  present,  and  I  suddenly  realized  that 
I  also  had  imbibed  more  freely  than  I  usually  al- 
lowed myself.  Just  then  I  caught  Miss  Shippen's 
eye,  saw  that  she  observed  my  change  of  manner, 
and  took  it  either  for  reproof  or  warning.  Not  to 
appear  either  rude  or  Puritanical  in  her  eyes,  I 
silently  rebuked  myself  for  my  Presbyterian  straight- 
lacedness,  and  began  again  to  drink  and  to  make 
noisily  merry  with  the  rest.  A  moment  later  Miss 
Shippen  leaned  over  to  us  and  asked,  in  an  under- 
tone, if  Nelly  and  I  would  escort  her  home  —  the 
recent  Joseph  Surface  being,  she  feared,  already 
incapacitated  for  that  duty.  We  slipped  out  almost 
unobserved,  being  followed  soon  after,  I  think,  by 
the  rest  of  the  ladies,  and  the  few  gallants  in  fit 
condition  to  escort  them. 

My  brain  cooled  but  slowly,  even  in  the  fresh 


n6  DONALD  MCELROY 

night  air,  and,  after  we  had  safely  delivered  Miss 
Shippen  at  her  home,  and  driven  to  the  Buford  man- 
sion, I  begged  Nelly  to  sit  with  me,  in  the  library, 
till  I  felt  more  ready  to  welcome  sleep.  A  single 
candle  burned  still  in  the  silver  stick  on  the  candle- 
stand,  but  through  the  shutterless  French  windows 
giving  upon  the  rear  balcony,  a  bath  of  opal-rayed 
moonlight  flooded  the  room.  I  blew  out  the  candle, 
as  Nelly  sank  into  a  deep  chair  within  the  circle  of 
the  moon's  softer  radiance,  and  bade  me  find  some- 
thing to  talk  of,  other  than  the  play,  for  she  was 
sick  of  it. 

"  Then  give  me  a  subject  your  ladyship  will  be 
pleased  to  hear  discourse  upon,"  I  said,  placing  a 
chair  for  myself  in  front  of  her. 

"  The  one  nearest  your  heart,  sir." 

"  That  would  be  the  one  most  accessible  to  my 
present  satisfied  vision." 

"  I  —  and  what  could  you  say  upon  so  meager 
a  topic?  " 

"  Meager?  To  recount  your  goodness  to  me 
would  furnish  material  for  an  hour's  discourse;  to 
enumerate  your  charms  and  graces  another;  your 
qualities  and  accomplishments  a  third.  Give  me 
leave  and  I'll  talk  till  cock  crow  upon  one  subdivision 
of  my  theme  —  how  much  I  love  you !  But  always 
you  hush  me  when  I  approach  that  subject." 

44  Because  I  know  you  love  me  not  —  that  only 
you  love  to  flatter  me.  How  learned  you  such  arts 
of  the  world,  thou  whilom  backwoodsman?" 

"  From  instinct.  Needs  a  man  ever  to  learn  how 
to  tell  a  woman  he  loves  her?  How  to  descant 
upon  charms  and  graces  he  sees  limned  in  beauty 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  117 

before  his  eyes?  How  can  you  say  I  do  not  love 
you?  " 

"  Have  you  read  of  King  Arthur's  knights,  and 
how  they  dared  mighty  deeds  of  prowess  for  the 
damsels  they  loved?  " 

"  Yes,  and  so  would  I  —  were  there  deeds  of 
prowess  to  be  done.  But  I,  a  prisoner,"  and  then 
I  stopped,  ashamed  that  I  should  complain,  like  a 
whining  stripling,  of  the  fortunes  of  war, —  which  in 
truth  had  used  me  but  too  kindly  in  all  save  enforced 
inactivity. 

"  True,  there  are  no  deeds  of  prowess  you  may 
do  now,  but  one  single  act  of  self-sacrifice  would 
convince  me  of  your  love." 

"  Only  name  it,  dear  Nelly,"  and  I  leaned  nearer 
and  caught  in  mine  the  hands  that  folded  in  her  lap. 

"  It  will  serve  to  prove  the  value  of  your  protes- 
tations—  though  I  know  beforehand  you  will  not 
consent." 

"  First  name  my  reward ;  were  it  but  one  kiss  from 
those  sweet  lips,  I'll  engage  to  earn  it  at  any  cost." 

"  It  might  be  something  more  lasting  than  a  kiss, 
an'  you  would,"  and  Nelly  blushed  adorably,  and 
dropped  the  soft  fringe  of  her  eyes  upon  her  glow- 
ing cheeks. 

"  Your  dear  self,  Nelly,  your  love?  "  I  questioned 
ardently,  kissing  the  hands  I  still  imprisoned,  and 
dropping  on  my  knees  beside  her,  that  I  might  force 
her  eyes  to  meet  mine. 

"  Even  my  own  poor  self  —  nor  is  the  sacrifice  I 
would  ask  so  great;  indeed  it  carries  with  it  a  com- 
pensation which  by  many  would  be  deemed  ample 
reward,  were  all  you  are  now  bargaining  for  left 


us  DONALD  MCELROY 

out  of  the  contract.  Can  you  not  guess  what  proof 
of  your  sincerity  I  would  claim?  " 

"  Thick  headed  soldier  that  I  am,  I  cannot  — " 
but  I  scarcely  knew  what  I  said,  for  my  arm  was 
about  Nelly's  warm,  pliant  form,  her  soft  cheek 
rested  against  mine,  her  fragrant  breath  was  in  my 
nostrils,  and  my  heart  thumped  audibly,  while  all 
my  blood  was  in  a  hot  tumult  of  blissful  agitation. 

"  Simply  to  don  the  uniform  of  a  British  captain, 
and  then  to  teach  these  luxurious  laggards  how  to  put 
a  speedy  end  to  this  fratricidal  contest.  By  doing 
so  you  will  the  sooner  bring  to  this  distracted  coun- 
try the  blessing  of  restored  peace,  and  for  yourself 
win  quick  promotion,  honor,  fame,  fortune  —  and 
if  you  love  me,  Donald,  that  which  will  make  you 
happiest." 

As  soon  as  I  had  realized  the  full  meaning  of 
Nelly's  rapidly  poured  forth  persuasions,  I  gently 
released  her,  and  rose  to  my  feet,  then  stood 
silently  by,  for  a  moment,  looking  down  upon  her, 
with  a  conscious  tenseness  of  all  my  muscles,  as  of 
one  who  inwardly  strengthens  himself  for  a  wrench- 
ing effort.  Beneath  my  fixed  gaze  Nelly  paled,  and 
flushed,  and  paled  again,  and  the  fingers  of  her  freed 
hands  were  locked  and  loosed  alternately,  while  from 
beneath  her  lowered  lids  two  big  tears  slipped,  and 
fell  unheeded. 

Meantime  I  thought  of  Colonel  Morgan,  and 
the  indignation  with  which  he  had  repelled  an  offer 
of  treason  when  a  prisoner  in  Canada;  then  of  my 
father,  and  his  perfect  trust  in  me  —  his  only  son, 
bearer  of  a  yet  untarnished  name  to  future  genera- 
tions ;  and  then,  most  strangely,  came  a  sudden  vision 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  119 

of  Ellen  O'Niel,  as  last  I  had  seen  her  poised  like 
a  spirit  upon  the  rock  above  the  spring;  and  with 
the  vision  came  a  new  and  more  complete  under- 
standing of  her  feelings  of  fierce  loyalty  to  her  par- 
ents' religion,  and  of  all  that  it  meant  to  her. 

"  And  you  could  give  yourself  to  a  traitor,"  I  said, 
at  last — "or  would  you  play  Delilah  to  my  Sam- 
son, Jael  to  my  Sisera,  Judith  to  my  Holofernes? 
But  I  am  roused  from  my  well  nigh  fatal  slumber; 
I  have  broken  my  bonds.  To-morrow  I  resign  my 
parole,  and  deliver  myself  a  prisoner.  I  must  in- 
deed have  sunk  low,  since  twice  in  forty-eight  hours 
infamous  proposals  of  treason  have  been  made  to 
me ! "  Then  my  heart  softened  to  Nelly,  now 
shaken  with  sobs,  her  face  covered  with  her 
hands. 

"  But  I  can  well  believe  you  meant  it  not  for  in- 
sult, Miss  Nelly;  you  were  set  on  by  others  to  offer 
me  love  and  luxury  at  the  price  of  my  honor. 
Women  have  no  place  in  intrigue;  I  shall  forget 
the  nightmare  of  this  hour,  and  remember  only  your 
goodness  to  me,  and  my  happiness  in  your  home. 
Farewell,  thou  sweet  and  gracious  Nelly  of  my 
heart;  the  only  Nelly  I  shall  ever  remember."  And 
then  I  stooped  and  kissed  the  bowed  head  with  rev- 
erent tenderness  —  as  one  kisses  the  face  of  a  dying 
comrade. 

The  soft  moon  radiance  which  had  caressed  Nelly 
so  becomingly,  in  the  room  below,  streamed  through 
my  opened  window,  and  I  kneeled  in  it,  and  prayed, 
earnestly,  that  the  God  of  my  fathers  would  protect 
me  against  temptation,  as  he  had  hitherto  protected 
me  against  all  other  dangers.  As  I  did  so  the  qua- 


120  DONALD  MCELROY 

vering  voice  of  my  grandmother  seemed  to  sound 
in  my  ears,  and  I  could  hear  her  chanting  in  tones 
of  solemn  rapture  her  favorite  song: 

"  The  man  hath  perfect  blessedness, 
Who  walketh  not  astray 
In  counsel  of  ungodly  men, 
Nor  stands  in  sinners'  way, 
Nor  sitteth  in  the  scorner's  chair 
But  placeth  his  delight 
Upon  God's  law,  and  meditates 
On  His  law  day  and  night. 

"  He  shall  be  like  a  tree  that  grows 
Near  planted  by  a  river, 
Which  in  his  season  yields  his  fruit, 
And  his  leaf  fadeth  never. 
And  all  he  doth  shall  prosper  well. 
The  wicked  are  not  so, 
But  like  they  are  unto  the  chaff, 
Which  wind  drives  to  and  fro." 

Often  had  I  sung  with  her  these  words,  but  now 
they  took  on  a  new  meaning.  I  had  chosen  to  enjoy 
luxury  with  the  enemies  of  my  country,  rather  than 
endure  the  hardships  of  prison  life  with  other  cap- 
tives, and  had  allowed  myself  to  become  so  entan- 
gled with  them  that  the  wrench  of  total  separation 
must  cost  me  much  of  regret  and  suffering.  I  had 
walked  astray  —  therefore  God's  blessing  was  no 
longer  upon  me. 

All  night  I  tossed,  regretting  past  weakness,  and 
planning  an  honorable  retreat.  I  could  see,  now, 
how  they  had  played  upon  my  conceit,  and  even  upon 
my  sociability,  and,  with  writhings  of  spirit,  I  was 
compelled  to  admit  that  Nelly  herself  had  measured 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  121 

my  weaknesses,  and  used  them  to  gain  her  ascend- 
ancy over  me. 

The  household  was  still  wrapped  in  the  slumber 
of  early  morning  when  I  arose,  packed  my  belong- 
ings, and  leaving  a  note  of  thanks  and  farewell  to 
Madam  Buford,  betook  myself  to  Captain  Wheat- 
on's  quarters. 

"  He  was  still  asleep,"  his  man  said;  so  I  stretched 
myself  upon  a  settee  in  his  smoking  room,  fell  into  a 
doze,  and  then  asleep. 

"  In  the  name  of  Pluto,  and  all  the  other  gods 
of  the  lower  region,  how  came  you  here,  McElroyI 
Had  you  to  bring  me  home,  and  were  you  too  drunk 
to  go  farther?  "  were  the  first  words  which  aroused 
me;  and  they  came  from  Wheaton,  who  stood  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  unshaven,  and  uncombed, 
his  fine  figure  wrapped  in  a  gay  Turkish  chamber- 
robe. 

"  I  know  not  how  drunk  you  may  have  been  be- 
fore the  feast  ended,  Wheaton,"  I  answered,  laugh- 
ing, "  but  I  slept  in  my  own  bed,  rose  at  sun-up, 
and  have  dozed  here  an  hour  or  so  waiting  for 
you." 

"  Then  you  have  the  stomach  and  the  head  of 
Charles  Fox  himself.  I  know  not  how,  or  when  I 
got  to  bed,  and  my  head  is  as  big  and  as  tight  as  a 
drum.  But  you  came  avisiting  full  early  —  what's 
to  pay?  " 

14 1  wish  to  ask  a  last  favor,  Captain,  though  al- 
ready your  courtesy  to  a  prisoner  passeth  thanks." 

"  Out  with  it,  man, —  though  why  last,  I  can  no 
way  surmise.  'Tis  done  if  can  be." 


122  DONALD  MCELROY 

As  briefly  as  possible  I  told  him  of  the  offer  which 
had  been  made  me  at  the  officers'  banquet,  and  of 
my  growing  conviction  that  my  own  conduct  had 
made  me  liable  to  the  insult;  so  that,  though  I  felt 
no  sentiment  but  one  of  gratitude  to  the  officers,  I 
could  no  longer  remain  among  them,  as  a  guest.  I 
wished  him,  therefore,  to  ask  Colonel  Forbes  to 
grant  me  an  exchange  as  soon  as  possible,  and  mean- 
time I  would  hand  in  my  parole,  and  go  to  prison. 
"  I  tell  you  truth,  Wheaton,"  I  concluded,  "  when 
I  say  that  I  scorn  myself  for  my  conduct  during  the 
past  two  months." 

"  You  take  a  most  exaggerated  view  of  the  situa- 
tion, McElroy,  and  your  decision  is  quixotic,"  an- 
swered Wheaton.  "  I'll  ask  for  your  immediate  ex- 
change, but,  meantime,  why  not  make  yourself  com- 
fortable? I'll  gladly  share  my  quarters  with  you, 
if  you  feel  indisposed  to  accept  the  Bufords'  hos- 
pitality longer." 

"  Thank  you  from  my  heart,  Wheaton,"  and  I  laid 
my  hand  upon  his  arm  in  grateful  affection.  "  You 
British  are  good  fellows,  as  well  as  brave  and  gen- 
erous enemies;  would  there  had  never  been  cause  of 
quarrel  between  us.  But  my  resolution  is  taken;  to 
prison  I  will  go  till  exchanged.  Will  you  be  so 
good  as  to  consider  me  your  prisoner,  and  to  send 
me  under  guard  to  your  most  comfortable  resort 
for  the  enemy?  Here  is  my  parole." 

"  Damn  your  foolishness,  McElroy!  I'll  not 
have  your  parole,  nor  will  I  send  you  to  prison.  If 
you  are  set  to  do  this  absurd  thing,  and  no  doubt 
you  are,  for  you  are  as  stubborn  as  —  as  —  a  Scotch 
Irishman,  and  I  know  of  no  other  breed  of  animal 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  123 

worthy  to  be  compared  with  him  for  that  virtue, 
march  yourself  over  to  the  general  prison,  find  a 
cell,  lock  yourself  in.  and  throw  the  key  out  of  the 
window." 

I  laughed,  wrung  Wheaton's  hand  in  farewell,  and 
took  his  advice;  except  that  I  had  no  need  to  lock 
myself  in,  the  astonished  prison  officer  doing  that 
for  me  with  due  courtesy. 

My  fare  that  day,  and  my  couch  that  night  were 
as  poor  and  as  hard  as  my  aroused  conscience  could 
have  suggested,  but  I  took  them  as  penance,  and 
almost  with  pleasure.  The  very  next  day,  Wheaton 
came  to  tell  me  that  my  exchange  was,  for  the  pres- 
ent, refused  on  the  ground  that  I  knew  too  much 
of  the  state  of  the  defenses  of  Philadelphia ;  but  that 
my  parole  was  extended  for  a  year,  and  I  was  re- 
quested to  return  to  my  home  until  my  exchange 
could  be  allowed,  as  provisions  were  growing  scarce, 
and  the  feeding  of  prisoners  had  become  well-nigh 
impossible. 

Unless  exchanged  in  the  meantime  I  could  not  bear 
arms  against  the  British  under  any  circumstances  for 
six  months,  and  I  was  not  permitted  to  join  my  old 
command  under  a  fixed  period  of  twelve  months 
from  the  first  day  of  the  present  month.  The  terms 
seemed  to  me  unduly  severe,  but  upon  Wheaton's  as- 
surance that  they  were  the  best  I  could  hope  for, 
I  determined  to  accept  them,  and  to  start  at  once 
for  home.  The  last  was  no  unwelcome  prospect, 
more  than  two  years  having  expired,  since  I  had  seen 
the  dear  valley  and  the  faces  of  loved  ones. 

I  had  still  a  dozen  gold  sovereigns  in  my  pocket 
—  fruits  of  the  last  game  of  Hazard  I  had  played  — 


124  DONALD  MCELROY 

and  Wheaton  assisted  me  in  buying  that  afternoon, 
a  sorrel  horse,  a  saddle,  and  a  pair  of  saddle  pockets 
which  I  stocked  with  a  bottle  of  rum,  a  package  of 
biscuits,  and  a  change  of  garments.  By  sunrise  next 
morning,  equipped  with  proper  passports,  my  parole, 
and  a  pistol,  presented  to  me  by  Wheaton,  I  rode 
southward  to  the  Virginia  border  line;  then  de- 
flected my  course  eastward,  towards  Williamsburg. 

Governor  Henry  was  an  acquaintance  of  my 
father  and  a  warm  friend  of  Colonel  Morgan. 
It  might  be  worth  my  while  to  ask  his  influence  in 
securing  my  early  exchange,  and  to  let  him  under- 
stand how  irksome  to  me  were  the  terms  of  my  pa- 
role. When  so  many  were  ready  to  shirk  there  were 
those  who  would  ask  nothing  better  than  an  honor- 
able excuse  to  stay  at  home.  I  would  see  Governor 
Henry,  and  ask  that  he  transfer  me  to  some  frontier 
service  where  at  least  I  could  help  defend  the  Vir- 
ginia border  against  Indians,  during  the  months  of 
forced  inactivity  against  the  British. 


CHAPTER  XI 

It  will  doubtless  seem  a  matter  for  wonderment 
to  those  who  may  read  this  chronicle,  that  it  was 
no  more  difficult,  in  those  days,  to  secure  an  inter- 
view with  the  Governor  of  the  State  of  Virginia 
than  with  any  other  gentleman  in  the  Common- 
wealth. The  morning  after  my  arrival  in  Williams- 
burg,  I  betook  myself  to  the  Governor's  mansion, 
clanged  the  iron  knocker,  and  was  shown  by  the 
negro  doorkeeper  straight  into  the  Governor's  office. 
He  sat  before  a  square  deal  table,  littered  with  doc- 
uments, inkhorns,  and  the  like,  while  under  his  hand, 
on  a  small  tray,  lay  a  pile  of  letters,  one  of  which 
he  was  engaged  in  deciphering.  I  made  my  bow  in 
the  doorway,  and  with  my  cocked  hat  upon  my  heart, 
after  the  latest  manner,  announced  myself: 

"  Your  Honor's  most  obedient  servant,  sir!  My 
name  is  Donald  McElroy,  late  captain  in  Colonel 
Morgan's  rifle  company." 

Governor  Henry  rose  and  came  to  meet  me,  a 
friendly  smile  upon  his  lean,  dark,  beak-nosed  face, 
his  hand  cordially  outstretched.  "  Then  you  are 
one  of  the  notable  marksmen  who  whipped  us  the 
gallantly  led  English  regulars  at  Freeman's  Farm  — 
closing  thereby  the  trap  in  which  Burgoyne  was  taken, 
a  few  days  later.  Let  me  shake  your  hand,  sir,  and 
thank  you  in  the  name  of  Virginia.  Gates  seems 


i26  DONALD  MCELROY 

minded  to  claim  all  the  glory,  and  that  asinine  con- 
gress still  allows  him  to  throw  dust  into  their  half 
shut  eyes.  But,  history,  sir,  will  be  no  more  de- 
ceived than  are  General  Washington,  and  others, 
and  the  debt  of  honor  due  Colonel  Morgan  and 
his  riflemen  will  be  paid  in  full  by  posterity,  Captain 
McElroy." 

Governor  Henry's  manner  of  saying  this  had  far 
more  effect  than  the  mere  words.  His  head  went 
up,  and  his  whole  face  beamed  with  lively  enthusi- 
asm, while  his  deep  voice  rang  thrillingly.  Wheaton 
had  told  me  of  Charles  Fox,  and  how  he  made  any 
man  think  what  he  pleased,  more  by  the  kindling 
power  of  his  rich,  finely  modulated  voice,  than  by 
his  logic,  or  bursts  of  eloquence.  Now,  I  under- 
stood what  had  seemed  exaggeration  in  Wheaton; 
now  I  knew  why  those  simple  words,  eloquent  only 
with  feeling,  spoken  by  Mr.  Henry  before  the  Vir- 
ginia assembly,  at  a  surcharged  moment,  had  set 
them  aflame  with  patriotic  fervor. 

So  proud  was  I  again  of  my  recent  service  under 
Morgan,  that  I  forgot  the  depression  and  self-abase- 
ment I  had  suffered  these  last  few  days,  and  found 
it  easy  to  sit  down  before  Governor  Henry,  and  give 
him  an  account  of  all  that  had  happened  to  me  since 
I  was  taken  prisoner  on  the  battle  field  of  Chestnut 
Hill  —  leaving  out,  of  course,  the  name  of  Nelly 
Buford,  and  hiding  as  well  as  I  could  the  part  a 
woman  had  played  in  my  downfall.  He  guessed,  I 
thought,  much  of  what  I  tried  to  conceal,  though  his 
words  in  no  way  intimated  that  he  did  so.  He  told 
me  candidly,  that  he  thought  I  had  been  wrong 
to  linger  with  my  kind  entertainers  after  my  wound 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  127 

was  healed,  but  added  this  remark  of  sympathy 
which  warmed  my  heart  anew: 

"  Yet,  who  knows  but  that  I'd  have  done  the  same 
in  like  circumstances.  Your  conduct,  sir,  was  less 
wise  than  natural.  However,  a  whole  year's  ab- 
sence from  your  command,  without  privilege  of  ex- 
change, meantime,  seems  unwarranted  by  the  harm 
you  may  be  able  or  inclined  to  do  them." 

I  thanked  Governor  Henry  for  his  sympathy,  and 
then  unfolded  to  him  my  wish  to  spend  this  forced 
interval  of  absence  from  the  regular  army  in  fron- 
tier service,  where  I  might  still  defend  my  state,  and 
wipe  from  my  conscience  the  reproach  of  having 
proved  myself  unworthy. 

"  If  that  be  your  wish,  Captain,"  the  governor 
answered  heartily,  "  I  have  in  waiting  the  very  serv- 
ice you  are  looking  for;  and  moreover,  we  sorely 
need  men  for  the  enterprise  —  as  great  a  one  and  al- 
most as  difficult,  to  my  thinking,  as  the  undertaking 
of  Jason  and  his  Argonauts.  Have  you  ever 
chanced  to  meet  George  Rogers  Clark,  one  of  the 
pathfinders  in  the  Kentucky  wilderness,  a  friend  of 
Daniel  Boone?  " 

"  I  have  not  had  that  honor,  sir." 

"  Then  it  shall  be  yours,  this  evening,  and  an 
honor  you  may  well  esteem  it.  He  is  yet  a  young 
man,  but  he  has  the  daring  of  a  Cortez.  He  has 
vast  schemes  abrewing  which,  if  successful,  mean 
great  things  for  Virginia,  and  timely  aid  to  the  cause. 
His  plans,  however,  are  yet  secret,  and  must  remain 
so,  except  in  so  far  as  he  may  see  fit  to  enlighten 
you  should  you  enter  his  service.  Meet  him  here 
this  evening,  and,  if  Clark  consents,  you  shall  be 


128  DONALD  MCELROY 

present  at  our  conference.  I  demand,  you  see,  no 
credentials.  Most  men  I  can  read  in  an  hour's  talk; 
and,  moreover,  I  know  the  Scotch  Irish  breed  — 
rugged,  plain,  a  little  hard  and  narrow,  perhaps,  but 
also  steadfast  as  the  rocks  which  rib  the  mountains 
they  delight  to  dwell  among." 

"  Though  you  but  give  proper  praise  to  the  wor- 
thy breed  from  which  you  also  have  partly  sprung, 
Governor  Henry,  I  still  owe  you  warm  thanks  for 
saying  it,"  I  answered;  "yet  with  your  permission 
I'll  leave  my  credentials  for  Mr.  Clark's  inspection," 
and  I  took  from  my  pocket  my  captain's  commission, 
a  personal  letter  from  General  Arnold,  commending 
my  bravery  at  Freeman's  Farm,  and  a  copy  of  one 
written  my  father  by  Captain  Morgan. 

Impatiently  I  awaited  the  chance  to  learn  more  of 
this  great  adventure,  and  not  a  moment  behind  the 
hour  named,  presented  myself.  Yet  Clark  was  be- 
fore me.  The  first  look  into  each  other's  eyes 
fixed,  I  think,  our  mutual  confidence,  and  with  our 
first  handclasp  began  a  life  long  friendship. 

George  Rogers  Clark  had  the  look  and  bearing 
of  a  man  born  for  deeds  of  great  emprise.  He  was 
half  an  inch  taller  than  I,  measuring  in  his  mocca- 
sins six  feet  three  and  a  half  inches,  and  not  one  of 
Morgan's  riflemen  was  tougher  of  muscle,  suppler 
of  limb.  His  face,  lighted  with  glowing  brown  eyes, 
was  singularly  handsome,  at  once  winning  and  com- 
manding. It  indicated  a  lofty  mind,  and  a  sweet 
nature,  but  also  a  reckless  boldness  of  disposition. 
Better  than  all,  for  the  fulfilling  of  his  purposes, 
there  was  boundless  confidence  in  himself  and  his 
resources,  and  a  buoyant  hopefulness  of  disposition; 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  129 

and  these  were  united  with  a  daring  will  which  but 
strengthened  under  difficulty. 

"  Captain  McElroy,  I  introduce  you  to  Captain 
George  Rogers  Clark.  He  is  quite  ready  to  take 
you  into  his  service  if  you  can  promise  to  join  him 
heart  and  soul  in  this  bold  enterprise  he  is  deter- 
mined upon,"  said  Governor  Henry. 

"  Yes,  Captain  McElroy,"  and  Clark  grasped  my 
hand,  bestowing  his  winning  smile  upon  me.  "  I  am 
satisfied  that  I  can  trust  you,  and  you  may  be  of 
great  assistance  to  me.  Could  you  enlist  forty  or 
fifty  volunteers  in  your  valley,  think  you?  " 

"  If  there  be  left  that  many  able  bodied  men,  if 
the  service  be  one  of  Virginia's  need  or  honor,  and 
there  be  no  rumor  of  an  Indian  uprising  afloat." 

"  Our  enterprise  will  put  an  end  to  all  fear  of 
Indian  forays,  by  driving  them  to  the  Mississippi. 
Our  nominal  purpose,  indeed,  is  to  turn  back  the 
gathering  forces  of  the  Northwest  savages,  who  are 
planning  a  surprise  for  Bonnesville,  Harrodsburg 
and  Logan's  Fort,  and  who,  after  devastating  Vir- 
ginia's outposts,  expect  to  over-run  your  valley,  and 
exterminate  the  settlements  of  the  Blue  Ridge. 
Now,  while  all  the  able  bodied  men  are  engaged  in 
the  war  upon  the  coast,  is  the  red  man's  last  oppor- 
tunity to  regain  his  lost  hunting  ground.  Does  the 
plan  to  meet  them  more  than  half  way,  to  do  our- 
selves the  surprise  act,  appeal  to  you,  Captain  Mc- 
Elroy? Is  it  likely  to  appeal  to  your  neighbors  in 
the  valley?" 

"  Next  to  fighting  our  invaders,  it  is  the  service 
I  shall  like  best,  Captain  Clark;  and  there  are  those 
of  my  neighbors  more  likely  to  respond  to  this  call 


130  DONALD  McELROY 

upon  their  rifles  than  to  any  other.  The  happy  re- 
sults of  Point  Pleasant  have  taught  us  'tis  best  not 
to  wait  for  the  savages,  but  to  go  to  meet  them." 

"  That's  encouraging  talk,  Captain,"  and  Clark's 
voice  rang  more  heartily,  and  his  face  sparkled  with 
animation  and  humor,  "  and  you  may  be  doubly 
grateful  before  we  see  the  end  of  our  expedition; 
though  we  go  against  the  Indians,  and  shall  cheer- 
fully fight  them  if  there  be  need,  our  real  object  " — 
his  voice  sank  to  a  whisper — "  is  to  strike  the  forts 
at  Kaskaskia  and  Vincennes.  They  are  weakly  gar- 
risoned and  unsuspecting,  and  their  French  inhabit- 
ants, I  hear,  are  much  disaffected  to  British  rule. 
We  have  but  need  to  appear  before  them  with  a 
small,  resolute,  well-armed  force  to  compel  capitu- 
lation, after  which  we  can  form  alliance  with  the 
French,  intimidate  the  Indians,  and  claim  all  the 
Ohio  Valley  as  Virginia  territory.  By  doing  so  we 
will  not  only  more  than  double  the  dominion  of  our 
State,  and  give  a  blow  to  autocratic  power,  but  will 
secure  safety  to  the  pioneers  of  Virginia  and  Ken- 
tucky, and  save  from  butchery  many  a  helpless 
family." 

"  But  my  parole,  Governor  Henry,"  I  said,  turn- 
ing to  him  with  rueful  countenance. 

"  You  are  not  violating  its  terms,  Captain  McEl- 
roy,  by  accepting  service  with  Clark,  since  there's 
small  chance  of  a  clash  with  the  British  before  your 
parole  has  expired." 

"  Then  what  can  I  do,  Captain  Clark,  to  forward 
your  bold  enterprise?  "  I  said,  turning  again  eagerly 
to  my  new  leader. 

"  First  you  can  sit  here  and  listen,  while  Mr.  Jef- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  131 

ferson,  Mr.  Wythe,  Mr.  Mason,  Governor  Henry 
and  I  devise  ways  and  means  that  will  make  known 
to  you  the  details  of  our  plan.  You  can  then  hasten 
home  to  enlist  men  for  an  advance  against  the  In- 
dians. Later  — " 

"  That's  Jefferson's  voice  now,"  interrupted  the 
Governor,  "  and  the  others  are  with  him,"  and 
hastening  to  the  street  door  with  a  flaring  candle  in 
his  hand,  he  lighted  the  group  through  the  passage 
way  to  our  presence. 

Mr.  Jefferson  had  once  dined  at  our  house,  and 
I  remembered  him  as  an  elegant  and  gracious  gen- 
tleman, though  somewhat  over  dignified  and  sen- 
tentious. Colonel  Mason,  and  the  learned  and  able 
Wythe,  I  saw  now  for  the  first  time.  Since  he  had 
written  our  "  Declaration  of  Independence  "  Mr. 
Jefferson's  fame  was  world-wide,  and  Colonel 
Mason,  as  the  author  of  our  "  Bill  of  Rights,"  and 
our  State's  Constitution,  was  not  less  favorably, 
though  perhaps  less  widely,  known;  while  Mr. 
Wythe's  reputation  as  jurist  had  already  extended 
beyond  America. 

As  behooved  in  such  company,  I  was  a  silent 
listener,  learning  much  of  Colonel  Clark's  plans,  and 
even  more  of  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  them.  It 
seemed  to  me  a  rash  and  dangerous  undertaking  but 
not  without  chance  of  success. 

Governor  Henry,  I  found,  was  not  a  whit  behind 
Clark  in  zeal  for  the  enterprise;  nor  was  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson much  less  ready  to  give  the  plan  full  counte- 
nance, though  he  did  not  expect  from  the  expedition, 
even  if  successful,  the  vast  results  that  Clark  reck- 
oned upon  so  confidently.  Mr.  Wythe  showed  the 


i32  DONALD  MCELROY 

caution  to  have  been  expected  from  his  calm  and 
logical  mind,  suggesting  difficulties  at  every  turn, 
and  urging  forethought  in  the  plans,  while  Colonel 
Mason  spoke  infrequently  and  with  less  of  flowing 
readiness  than  any  of  the  others,  but  most  pointedly 
and  justly,  first  on  the  side  of  caution,  and  then  on 
the  side  of  boldness,  as  Clark's  enthusiasm  and 
strongly  presented  arguments  gradually  won  him 
to  our  side. 

Governor  Henry's  fiat  had  already  gone  forth, 
nor  could  he  be  persuaded  to  modify  it,  that  the  men 
for  the  expedition  must  be  drawn  from  the  counties 
west  of  the  mountains.  If  the  seven  companies,  of 
fifty  men  each,  which  was  the  minimum  force  de- 
manded by  Clark,  could  be  raised  in  the  counties  of 
Frederick,  Augusta,  and  Fincastle,  Clark  was  wel- 
come to  enlist  and  use  them  —  otherwise  the  under- 
taking must  be  given  up.  But  Clark  was  no  wise 
minded  to  give  up  and,  after  accepting  the  Gov- 
ernor's terms,  turned  to  me  to  know  what  I  thought 
might  be  done  toward  raising  a  company  in  Augusta. 

"  It  has  been  more  than  two  years  since  I  left 
home,"  I  answered,  "  and  I  cannot  speak  with  as- 
surance, but  I  believe  one  or  more  companies  of  fifty 
might  be  raised,  if  I  am  allowed  to  say  that  the  set- 
tlements in  Kentucky  are  threatened,  and  that  our 
object  is  to  turn  back  an  Indian  invasion." 

"  You  can  say  that  with  truth,  Captain  McElroy. 
I  shall  rely  upon  you  for  at  least  one  company." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  Captain  Clark.  I  continue  my 
journey  homeward  to-morrow,  and  shall  begin  the 
work  of  enlistment  at  once." 

"  You  ride  my  way,  Captain  McElroy,  I  think," 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  133 

said  Mr.  Jefferson  pleasantly,  "  and  I  also  go  to- 
morrow; with  your  consent  we'll  keep  each  other 
company." 

I  thanked  him,  and  we  fixed  sun  rise  as  the  hour 
for  our  departure  from  the  Bell  Tavern. 

"  You  are  the  son  of  Justice  McElroy,  of  the 
Stone  Church  neighborhood,  I  suppose,  Captain? 
The  name  is  not  a  common  one  even  in  your  valley 
of  Macs." 

"  I  am  his  only  son,  sir." 

"  Once  when  you  were  a  lad  I  dined  at  your 
house;  you  scarcely  remember  the  occasion,  I  sup- 
pose? " 

"  Perfectly,  sir,  and  I  should  have  recognized  you 
anywhere.  We  cherish  with  pride  the  memory  of 
your  visit." 

Mr.  Jefferson  was  evidently  pleased  —  few  men 
are  so  great  as  to  be  indifferent  to  appreciation. 

"  By  the  way,  Clark,"  continued  Mr.  Jefferson, 
"  the  ex-scout  hermit  we  were  talking  of  this  morn- 
ing lives  on  McElroy's  direct  homeward  route,  near 
the  top  of  the  south  slope  of  the  mountain  between 
Monticello  and  Staunton.  It  might  be  well  to  en- 
gage McElroy  to  see  him ;  that  would  save  delay  and 
me  a  journey  at  a  busy  season." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  Mr.  Jefferson,"  spoke  I. 
Then  made  my  bow  and  left  them.  They  might 
wish  to  talk  matters  over  before  taking  me  further 
into  their  confidence. 


CHAPTER  XII 

That  ride  with  Mr.  Jefferson,  and  the  day  I  spent 
at  Monticello,  have  still  a  pleasant  flavor  in  retro- 
spect. Mr.  Jefferson's  urbanity  matched  his  de- 
lightful conversation,  and  my  pleasure  in  his  conde- 
scension and  his  intellectual  charm  gave  him  evident 
satisfaction. 

Part  of  our  way  lay  through  the  forest,  and  one 
could  hear  the  oozing  sap,  mounting  upward  into 
the  yet  leafless  branches  interlaced  above  us.  The 
graceful,  clean-limbed  maples  had  strung  themselves 
with  strand  after  strand  of  glowing  coral  leaf  buds, 
and  the  white  trunked  cotton  woods  were  hung 
thickly  with  a  soft  pinkish  brown  fringe,  while  each 
branch  of  the  laurel,  the  dogwood  and  the  ivy  shrubs 
bulged  with  close  folded  gray  green  buds  —  big  with 
promise  of  leaf  and  blossom.  The  rich  loam  under 
our  horses'  feet  was  cracked  open  here  and  there, 
making  tiny  winrows  of  the  rotted  leaves,  where 
reawakened  roots  of  fern  or  flower  were  pushing 
upward  with  divine  instinct  for  life  and  sunshine. 
From  sunny  dell's  slope,  and  the  southern  side  of 
oak  and  locust  trees,  rose  nature's  incense  —  the 
breath  of  purple  violets,  of  white  anemones,  and 
flushed  arbutus  blossoms,  floating  intermittently 
upon  the  whimsical  zephyrs  of  a  balmy  day  in 
March. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  135 

Sudden  bursts  of  rapture,  or  shrill,  happy  calls 
from  vibrant  throats  of  robin,  and  wren,  cat  bird 
and  oriole,  red  bird  and  yellow  hammer,  mocking 
bird  and  blue  jay,  rang  from  treetop  to  treetop,  and 
the  fluttering  of  busy  wings,  and  the  important  chir- 
ruping and  twittering  of  the  nest  builders,  told  that 
the  birds,  too,  recognized  the  many  hints  of  coming 
spring,  and  were  all  of  a  spirit  with  the  mounting 
sap,  and  the  promise-breathing  perfume  of  violet 
and  arbutus  buds. 

We  talked  of  farming  and  gardening,  upon  which 
subject  Mr.  Jefferson  had  gathered  much  valuable 
information.  From  horticulture  we  drifted  to 
books,  and  the  writers  of  them.  It  pleased  me  to 
find  that,  as  far  as  my  limited  reading  had  gone,  our 
tastes  were  similar.  He  preferred  the  Greeks  and 
Greek  literature  to  the  Romans  and  their  writings. 
He  admired  Demosthenes,  Thucydides,  and  Homer; 
Tacitus  and  Horace  were  his  favorites  among  the 
Latins;  and  when  we  came  to  English  writers,  he 
also  gave  first  place  to  Dryden,  Milton,  Pope  and 
Ossian  among  the  poets,  to  Bacon,  Hume  and  Addi- 
son  among  prose  writers.  Finding  I  knew  nothing 
of  French,  Italian  or  German  literatures,  he  barely 
mentioned  Moliere,  Racine,  Petrarch,  Tasso  and 
Goethe.  Yet  his  mere  word  of  appreciation  kindled 
my  resolution  to  know  these  masters,  when  peace 
and  a  quiet  life  should  give  me  opportunity. 

My  liking  for  Ossian  seemed  to  delight  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson, and  he  quoted  freely  from  his  poems,  saying, 
with  warmth,  that  he  thought  "  this  rude  bard  of 
the  North  the  greatest  of  poets." 

"  Then,  sir,  you  give  no  credence  to  the  charge  of 


136  DONALD  MCELROY 

the  English  critics,  that  there  was  never  any  other 
Ossian  than  his  pretended  translator?  " 

"  No,  I  do  not !  "  answered  Mr.  Jefferson  emphat- 
ically, then  proceeded  to  give  me  cogent  reasons  to 
back  his  opinion. 

The  urgency  of  Mr.  Jefferson's  invitation  to  stop 
a  day  at  Monticello  was  not  to  be  resisted,  nor  was 
my  inclination  far  behind  the  courtesy  of  my  host. 
The  early  morning  was  spent  about  the  beautifully 
turfed  and  planted  grounds,  and  the  carefully  culti- 
vated gardens.  I  was  even  allowed  to  look  over 
the  garden  books,  as  accurate  as  algebraic  demon- 
strations, and  as  neat  as  copy  books.  Horses  were 
then  ordered  for  a  ride  over  the  plantation.  Mr. 
Jefferson  scanned  their  satiny  coats  with  critical  eye, 
rubbed  a  single  rough  spot  on  his  own  mount  with 
his  handkerchief,  and  showing  the  black  groom  who 
held  the  impatient  steed's  bridle  the  dust  stain  made 
upon  it,  gave  him  a  sharp  reprimand.  We  got  back 
in  time  for  a  glass  of  Scotch  rum  and  hot  water, 
seasoned  with  nutmeg,  before  dinner.  A  second 
ride  to  Charlottesville  in  the  afternoon,  to  procure 
the  mail  and  attend  to  some  matter  of  business, 
seemed  necessary  to  Mr.  Jefferson's  indefatigable 
energy. 

Mrs.  Jefferson  gave  us  her  charming  company  in 
the  evening,  and  some  excellent  music  with  voice  and 
spinet,  after  which  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  be  able 
to  entertain  her  by  an  account  of  the  Philadelphia 
performance  of  "  A  School  for  Scandal,"  with  a  few 
quotations  from  the  text  —  since  they  had  not  yet 
had  the  opportunity  to  read  any  of  Mr.  Sheridan's 
plays. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  137 

Though  Mr.  Jefferson  had  given  me  most  minute 
directions,  I  came  near  losing  the  trail  —  to  the 
right,  half  way  up  the  mountain  —  which  was  to 
lead  me  to  the  hermit's  retreat.  One  of  the  giant 
sentinel  maples,  which  marked  the  entrance  to  the 
trail,  had  recently  blown  down,  and  its  sprawling 
branches  completely  hid  the  path.  A  double  log 
cabin,  built  in  a  dent  of  the  mountain's  southern 
slope,  was  the  old  scout's  home.  The  forest  clus- 
tered about  it  protectingly,  except  for  a  clearing  a 
few  yards  wide  just  in  front  of  the  door,  and  no 
other  than  wild  growth  was  anywhere  visible.  Two 
yelping  dogs  came  from  the  doorway  at  the  sound 
of  my  horse's  feet,  followed  closely  by  the  hermit 
himself. 

"  Light,  stranger,  an'  hitch,"  he  called,  pointing 
to  the  nearest  tree  trunk. 

I  did  so,  while  he  leisurely  approached,  a  short 
stemmed  cob  pipe  in  his  mouth,  his  hands  pushed 
deep  into  the  pockets  of  his  homespun  breeches. 
His  hunting  shirt  was  also  of  homespun;  his  leggins, 
belt,  and  moccasins  of  leather;  and  the  cap  which 
surmounted  his  face  —  so  covered  with  beard  that  a 
pair  of  heavy  browed,  keen  brown  eyes,  and  a  large 
crooked  nose  were  the  only  features  visible  —  was 
made  of  deerskin.  Though  hair  and  beard  were 
grizzled,  he  showed  no  signs  of  age  in  figure  or 
bearing.  Within  the  cabin's  wide  chimney  a  fire 
smoldered,  and  a  rough  bench  was  drawn  up  before 
it.  Seated  and  served  with  tobacco  for  my  pipe, 
I  unfolded  my  mission. 

"  Thar'  ain't  no  two  men  nowhares  I'd  ruther 
pleasure  thin  Pat  Henry  en'  George  Clark,"  said  the 


138  DONALD  McELROY 

scout,  "  en'  I  'low  I'm  the  man  they  er'  lookin'  fur. 
I  knows  them  Algonquins,  en'.ther  savage  ways,  en' 
ther  heathen  talk  better'n  menny." 

"  Governor  Henry  and  Mr.  Clark  say  they  cannot 
do  without  you,  and  Mr.  Jefferson  bade  me  tell  you 
to  come  to  Monticello  this  week  to  give  him  your 
promise." 

"  Thar'  ain't  but  one  thing  es'll  hinder  me  —  but 
thet's  'nuff.  I  see  no  way  er  promisin'  jist  now, 
Cap'n  —  but  I'll  see  Mr.  Jefferson  afore  I  sez  no. 
You  coulden'  nohow  mention  no  kind  uv  frolic,  nur 
no  feastin'  nur  pleasuring  es  temptin'  ter  me,  Capt'n, 
es  killin'  Injuns.  The  way  I  hates  the  redskins 
mought  be  counted  es  hell-desarvin'  sin,  Capt'n,  but 
fur  the  fact  thet  they's  devils  en'  hes  devils'  ways, 
en'  the  Holy  Word  commands  us  ter  hate  the  devil 
and  all  his  wurrucks.  Did  Mr.  Henry  ur  Clark  tell 
yer  the  old  scout's  story,  Capt'n?  " 

Just  then  my  eye  was  drawn  to  the  crack  in  the 
door,  between  the  two  rooms,  by  hearing  the  swish- 
ering  as  of  a  woman's  skirts,  and  a  soft  tread  upon 
the  planks,  and  I  was  much  astonished  to  see  what 
seemed  to  me  the  shadow  of  a  woman's  form.  The 
scout,  too,  looked  up,  then  drew  his  brow  into  a  half 
worried  frown.  I  had  not  heard  of  a  wife  or  a 
daughter;  indeed,  had  understood  that  the  hermit 
lived  entirely  alone,  so  was  greatly  surprised. 
Something  in  the  scout's  manner  led  me  to  think, 
however,  that  he  did  not  care  to  be  questioned,  so 
I  made  haste  to  withdraw  my  eyes  and  to  answer  his 
question  in  the  negative. 

"  Wall,  ef  you  kin  bide  er  spell  longer  you  shell 
hear  the  pitiful  tale  " —  said  the  old  man  with  a  sigh 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  139 

— "  en'  er  sadder,  I  'low  you've  seldom  hearn,  even 
in  this  land  uv  sorrowful  stories  en'  terrurble  suf- 
ferin's." 

"  Then  without  doubt  your  opportunity  has 
come,"  said  I  when  the  tale  was  ended;  "nor  do  I 
wonder  you  hate  the  Indians,"  and  I  wrung  his  hand. 
"  But  I  must  say  good-by  now,  and  ride  on.  I  hope 
you  will  decide  to  join  us,  as  your  not  doing  so  will 
be  a  serious  Joss  to  our  expedition." 

"  I'll  see,  I'll  see.  Ther  temptation  to  fight  Injun 
devils  is  not  one  I'm  likely  ter  resist;  yit  thar's  rea- 
sons, serious  reasons,"  and  he  lowered  his  voice, 
looked  grave,  and  watched  the  crack  in  the  door  be- 
tween the  two  rooms  as  he  gripped  my  hand  in  fare- 
well. 

A  mile  farther  down  the  mountain  a  sudden 
crackling  in  the  bushes  at  one  side  caused  my  horse 
to  snort  and  sniff  suspiciously.  But  I  had  no  time 
now  to  track  wild  beast,  or  snare  game,  for  it  was 
already  midday,  and  I  must  reach  Staunton,  if  not 
home,  that  night.  As  I  rode  on  I  thought  much  of 
the  scout's  sad  story,  and  pitied  his  bereaved  and 
lonely  condition.  But  could  he  be  a  hypocrite  pos- 
ing for  sympathy?  Surely  that  was  a  woman's  form 
which  flitted  before  the  partly  open  door,  yet  he  had 
let  fall  no  hint  of  having  any  companion  of  his  soli- 
tude, and  I  knew  of  no  neighbors  nearer  than  the 
dwellers  on  the  plantations  around  Charlottesville. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

The  realization  that  before  another  sunset  I 
should  be  at  home,  should  take  mother,  grand- 
mother, and  little  Jean  in  my  arms,  clasp  my  father's 
hand  and  meet  his  welcoming  eye,  thrilled  me  with 
a  joyous  excitement  such  as  I  had  not  felt  since, 
nearly  three  years  before,  I  had  led  my  squad  of 
recruits  out  of  the  valley. 

The  road  between  the  foot  of  the  mountain  and 
Staunton  seemed  elastic  —  as  if  it  stretched  as  I 
traveled  it.  Not  for  six  months  now  had  I  heard 
from  home.  The  last  letter  had  been  brought  me 
by  a  recruit  from  our  valley,  before  the  fight  at 
Chestnut  Hill,  and  was  then  several  weeks  old.  It 
told  of  my  grandmother's  gradually  failing  strength, 
of  Aunt  Martha's  increasing  vexation  with  still  un- 
conquered  Ellen,  of  Jean's  rapid  development  into 
womanhood;  of  my  mother's  good  health  and  fa- 
ther's continued  vigor;  also  of  the  fine  crops  har- 
vested during  the  year,  and  sold  at  good  prices,  after 
a  generous  proportion  had  been  given  to  help  load 
the  wagon  train  sent  from  the  valley  to  help  to  feed 
General  Washington's  army.  There  were,  also,  bits 
of  local  news  and  gossip  most  interesting  to  me. 

A  chill,  misty  March  drizzle  came  on  with  the 
twilight,  my  steed  drooped  his  head  wearily,  and 
lifted  his  feet  with  mechanical,  springless  effort. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  141 

"  Poor  tired  beast,"  I  said,  patting  his  flanks, 
"  we'll  stop  this  night  in  Staunton,  and  you  shall 
have  supper  and  stable  if  there's  a  barn  left  in  the 
town."  He  appeared  to  understand  my  promise, 
for  his  gait  quickened,  his  head  was  lifted  hopefully, 
and  a  moment  later,  as  a  turn  in  the  highway  re- 
vealed the  lighted  windows  of  the  town,  he  uttered 
a  low,  thankful  nicker. 

"  If  William  Allen  or  John  Walker  is  at  home, 
we'll  not  lack  a  welcome,"  I  added,  giving  him  a 
second  encouraging  pat.  Both  these  lads  —  they 
were  men  now,  of  course  —  had  been  mates  of  mine 
at  "  the  academy,"  and  'twas  Allen  to  whom  I  made 
gift  of  my  books  when  I  went  home  to  enlist. 
Walker's  house  was  the  first  reached  and,  leaving 
my  horse  before  the  gate,  I  rapped  loudly  with  the 
hilt  of  my  sword  upon  the  door.  It  was  opened 
somewhat  cautiously,  and  Elder  Walker's  voice  en- 
quired peremptorily,  "  Who's  without?  " 

"  An  old  school  mate  of  your  son  John's,  Donald 
McElroy." 

"  What !  Captain  McElroy,  whom  family  and 
friends  have  mourned  as  dead  these  six  months  past? 
Come  in,  lad,  come  in!"  and  the  door  was  flung 
wide  open.  "  You'll  be  chilled  to  the  bone  in  that 
drenching  drizzle, —  and  your  horse  likewise. 
John!  John!  Here's  an  old  school  friend!  Call 
the  niggers,  wife !  Send  one  of  them  round  for 
Captain  McElroy's  horse,  and  have  on  another  back 
log!  Bring  out  the  rum  and  the  peach  brandy! 
The  son  of  William  McElroy  would  be  welcome 
under  all  circumstances,  but  coming  from  the  dead, 
as  it  were,  and  covered  with  honor,  doubtless, — 


142  DONALD  MCELROY 

why,  there's  nothing  in  the  town  good  enough  for 
him." 

The  house  was  abustle  by  this  time,  negroes  run- 
ning to  and  fro,  Mrs.  Walker  and  John  overwhelm- 
ing me  with  welcoming  attention,  and  the  Elder 
alternately  rattling  the  decanters  and  glasses,  and 
ringing  the  heavy  iron  poker  against  the  massive 
brass  andirons,  as  he  vigorously  punched  the  logs 
into  a  brisker  blaze.  I  had  half  forgotten  the 
warmth  and  heartiness  of  a  Scotch  Irish  welcome, 
and  my  eyes  filled  with  tears  at  the  familiar  sound 
of  it  all,  and  the  sight  of  John's  kind,  homely  face 
wreathed  with  glad  smiles. 

How  pleasant  the  flavor  of  the  oily  peach  brandy, 
how  genial  the  blaze  of  the  hickory  logs,  how  good 
to  hear  the  rich  voices  and  the  slight  accent,  as  they 
called  over  familiar  names  and  faces,  and  told  me 
the  valley  news ! 

"  Are  they  all  well  at  home?  "  was  my  first  ques- 
tion. 

"  All  well,  the  last  we  heard,  and  your  father  con- 
tinues to  be  one  of  the  most  prosperous  and  re- 
spected men  in  the  county,  and  your  mother  the  best 
o*f  housewives.  Little  Jean  has  grown  into  a  beauty, 
and  your  father  has  built  a  big  new  barn,  and  is 
burning  brick  for  a  spacious  dwelling  to  take  the 
place  of  the  old  cabin,"  answered  the  Elder  loqua- 
ciously, while  Mrs.  Walker  superintended  the  maid 
Jinsey,  serving  me,  upon  a  folding  table  placed  at 
my  elbow,  a  cavalry  man's  lunch  —  which  means 
enough  for  three. 

"  And  they  thought  me  dead,  Elder?  " 

"  They  feared  it,  lad,  having  heard  that  you  fell 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  143 

wounded  on  the  field  at  Chestnut  Hill,  were  taken 
prisoner,  and  carried  to  the  prison  hospital  in  Phila- 
delphia —  death  traps  they  are  said  to  be.  Your 
father  hopes  still,  but  your  mother  greets  sair,  and 
fears  the  very  worst." 

It  was  not  easy  to  get  away  from  my  entertain- 
ers the  next  morning,  but  I  was  eager  to  be  at  home, 
and  managed  to  be  off  by  half  past  ten,  despite  their 
urgent  hospitality,  and  their  disinclination  to  have 
my  horse  brought  around. 

"  It  was  communion  Sabbath  at  the  Stone  Church," 
the  Elder  had  insisted,  "  and  my  whole  family 
would,  without  doubt,  spend  the  day  at  the  services ; 
so  I  might  as  well  take  dinner  with  them,  and  ride 
home  in  the  afternoon." 

But  "  No,"  I  said;  "  I  would  ride  on  to  the  church, 
hear  part  of  the  sermon,  find  my  people,  and  take 
them  home  with  me  at  the  recess  between  the  morn- 
ing and  afternoon  service." 

Elder  Walker  was  one  of  those  who  had  gone  off 
to  form  a  new  congregation  at  Tinkling  Spring,  and 
I  gathered  from  his  talk  that  the  feud  caused  by  a 
secession  of  a  part  of  the  congregation  had  not  yet 
abated.  Between  my  Uncle  Thomas  and  Elder 
Walker  this  split  in  the  congregation  had  given  rise 
to  a  lasting  bitterness,  and  during  all  our  conversa- 
tion my  Uncle  Thomas'  name  was  not  mentioned. 

Every  rod  of  the  way,  from  the  town  to  the 
church,  was  marked  with  memories  for  me.  I 
smiled  at  the  recollection  of  the  squirrel  I  had  caught 
in  the  top  branches  of  a. certain  gnarled  old  oak; 
of  the  deer  I  had  shot,  as  it  bounded  across  the 
branch  in  yonder  meadow;  of  the  strawberries  I  had 


144  DONALD  McELROY 

gathered  from  the  sunny  hillsides.  Wrapped  in 
these  recollections  of  a  happy  boyhood,  I  rode  on, 
as  in  a  dream,  and  came  at  last  with  the  surprise 
of  suddenness,  upon  the  old  church. 

One  might  have  supposed  that  a  cavalry  company 
was  bivouacked  in  the  grove,  from  the  horses  hitched 
to  every  tree  and  shrub,  and  the  illusion  would  only 
be  strengthened  upon  closer  view,  by  the  rude  but 
strong  fortifications  encircling  the  building.  How 
vividly  came  back  the  sounds  and  scenes  of  the 
Indian  raid!  especially  the  erect  form  and  inspired 
face  of  old  Parson  Craig,  addressing  "  his  lads," 
in  the  spirit  of  a  Spartan  leader.  Years  before 
this  intrepid  man  of  God  had  gone  to  his  reckoning, 
and  I  had  no  doubt  as  to  the  side  of  the  account 
on  which  he  had  found  that  Mosaic  charge  he  had 
given  us  to  "  slay  and  spare  not." 

But  the  sounds  issuing  that  March  morning  from 
the  closed  doors  of  the  old  church  were  sounds  of 
Christian  harmony  and  pious  rejoicing.  The  con- 
gregation was  singing  one  of  Rouse's  paraphrases 
as  I  pushed  the  door  open  gently,  and  glided  into 
the  vacant  pew  against  the  wall.  Not  a  head  was 
turned,  so  engrossed  were  they  all  in  worship,  save 
those  of  two  or  three  restless  children.  I  drew 
myself  close  in  the  shadow  of  a  pillar,  and  listened 
with  glad  and  thankful  heart  to  the  singing.  This 
was  the  psalm,  and  the  words  were  set  to  one  of 
those  solemn,  grand  old  tunes,  which  rolled  so  deep 
and  full  from  the  throats  of  big  chested,  earnest  men, 
and  devout  women,  that  no  accompaniment  of  in- 
struments, such  as  the  modern  music  is  said  to  re- 
quire, was  needed. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  145 

"  O  praise  the  Lord,  for  He  is  good, 
His  mercy  lasteth  ever, 
Let  those  of  Israel  now  say 
His  mercy  faileth  never. 
Let  those  who  fear  the  Lord  now  say 
His  mercy  faileth  never." 

I  thought  I  recognized  the  full  tones  of  my  father's 
voice  and  my  emotions  almost  choked  me. 

The  instant  the  minister  rose  to  give  out  his  text, 
I  knew  him  to  be  Parson  Waddell  —  the  eloquent, 
blind  preacher  of  Hanover,  who  more  than  once  had 
been  described  to  me,  though  never  before  had  I  seen 
him,  or  heard  him  preach.  That  long,  lank  form; 
that  thin  face,  and  high,  bald  forehead,  from  which 
the  long  gray  locks  flowed  backward;  those  fixed, 
open  eyes,  so  evidently  sightless;  those  long,  rest- 
less arms,  and  hands,  trembling  with  palsy  —  that 
ensemble  could  be  no  other  than  Parson  Waddell  — 
the  pulpit  orator  of  America  during  his  generation, 
and  one  who  has  been  seldom  equaled  in  any  age  or 
country. 

I  cannot  now  recall  the  words  of  his  text,  nor  their 
exact  place  in  the  Bible,  only  that  it  was  some  pas- 
sage in  the  description  of  the  passion  of  our  Lord. 
This  I  remember  well,  that  from  the  first  sentence 
uttered  by  that  mellifluous  and  feeling  voice,  I  for- 
got everything  but  the  scene  he  depicted,  which  scene 
I  saw  as  'twere  passing  before  me.  I  agonized  with 
Jesus  in  the  garden;  flamed  with  Peter's  anger,  when 
he  struck  off  the  ear  of  the  servant  of  the  high  priest; 
followed,  weeping,  afar  with  the  other  disciples; 
burned  with  indignation  against  Christ's  accusers 
and  torturers ;  heard  Pilate's  decision,  and  the  High 


146  DONALD  McELROY 

Priest's  sentence,  with  the  despairing  astonishment 
of  His  followers;  grew  sick  and  tremulous  with  sym- 
pathy as  His  bleeding  form,  weighted  with  the  cross, 
struggled  up  Calvary;  and  my  very  soul  was  over- 
whelmed in  horror  and  amaze,  as  I  saw  His  broken 
body  hanging  upon  the  cross,  scorned,  reviled,  His 
sacred  head  crowned  with  thorns,  His  sacred  side 
pierced  by  the  soldier's  spear.  As  the  preacher 
went  on  to  depict  Jesus'  agony  of  spirit,  when  He 
felt  Himself  deserted  by  His  Father,  and  uttered 
that  piercing  cry,  "  Eli,  Eli,  lama  Sabachthani?  "  my 
every  nerve  was  strung  to  its  tightest  tension,  and  my 
throat  became  so  rigid  that  the  moans  which  came 
from  my  heart  could  find  no  utterance.  The  entire 
congregation  was  moved  almost  as  I  was. 

From  Dr.  Waddell's  sightless  eyes  tears  streamed 
like  rain,  and  his  utterances  were  almost  choked  by 
the  heartfelt  emotion  which  moved  him.  At  last  he 
was  forced  to  pause  and  to  cover  his  face  with  his 
trembling  hands.  For  an  instant  the  deep  silence 
over  all  the  church  was  broken  only  by  low  sobs  and 
stifled  moans. 

Presently  Dr.  Waddell  lifted  up  a  face,  wet  with 
tears,  straightened  slowly  his  tall,  gaunt  form,  lifted 
his  left  arm  with  solemn  impressiveness,  and  point- 
ing and  looking  upward,  with  a  gesture  of  indescrib- 
able faith  and  assurance,  said,  in  tones  which  rang 
in  glad  triumph,  though  an  echo  of  the  recent  sobs 
of  penitence  still  lingered  in  them, 

"  Friends  —  Socrates  died  like  a  philosopher, 
Jesus  Christ  like  a  God." 

The  effect  was  marvelous.  The  moans  and  the 
sobbing  ceased,  and  all  over  the  church  men,  women, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  147 

and  children  bowed  their  heads,  and  wept  tears  of 
thankfulness,  while  the  preacher  went  on  to  describe 
the  last  scenes  of  the  crucifixion :  —  the  rent  veil  of 
the  temple,  the  darkness,  the  earthquake,  the  terror 
of  the  soldiers  —  divine  signs  that  no  mere  man,  but 
the  Son  of  God  Himself  had  here  offered  up  His 
life  a  free  sacrifice  to  satisfy  Divine  justice. 

When  the  invitation  had  been  given  to  the  cele- 
bration of  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  while  the  com- 
municants were  taking  their  places  at  the  long  tables 
spread  in  the  aisles,  which  formed  a  cross,  another 
psalm  was  sung.  During  its  singing  I  slipped  un- 
heeded from  the  church,  and  walked  back  and  forth 
under  the  trees,  my  soul  more  moved  than  ever  it 
had  been  before.  That  hour  I  gave  my  heart,  and 
my  life  to  Christ,  making  solemn  vow  that  from 
henceforth  I  would  take  my  place,  as  my  heritage 
and  baptism,  gave  me  right  —  at  God's  Table;  that 
I  would  no  longer  be  one  of  those  to  scorn  so  mighty 
a  sacrifice,  to  refuse  so  priceless  a  redemption. 
There,  under  the  trees,  I  knelt  and  consecrated  all 
my  future  to  God's  service. 

The  very  day  seemed  set  apart  by  this  solemn  re- 
solve, and  now  I  did  not  wish  to  greet  my  family 
before  the  congregation.  So  I  got  on  my  horse 
and  rode  homeward. 

At  the  bars  which  led  from  the  highway  across 
my  Uncle  Thprnas  Mitchell's  fields  to  his  house, 
stood  my  Cousin  Thomas,  half  leaning  on  the  stile. 
His  gaze  was  fixed  upon  some  distant  object,  and 
though  he  answered  my  greeting,  as  I  halted  before 
him,  there  was  neither  interest  nor  curiosity  in  his 
listless  manner. 


148  DONALD  McELROY 

"  You  do  not  know  me,  Thomas,"  I  said. 

"  Can  it  be  Donald  McElroy?  "  and  he  was  in- 
terested enough  now,  his  face  aglow  with  pleasure. 
"  We  had  given  you  up  for  dead  in  Philadelphia 
prison,  Donald,"  and  almost  before  I  was  off  my 
horse  he  had  his  arms  about  me,  and  was  hugging 
me  as  if  I  had  been  his  mother. 

It  did  not  take  long  to  tell  him  so  much  of  my 
story  as  was  needful  he  should  know  at  once,  and 
then  I  began  to  put  questions. 

"  Are  all  well  at  home,  Tom?  " 

"  Yes,  all  well." 

"  Then  dear  grandmother  has  recovered  from 
her  illness;  I'm  glad  to  know  that." 

"  And  you  have  not  heard,  Donald?  You  do  not 
know  that  grandmother  has  been  dead  these  five 
months.  But  there,  cousin,"  putting  a  comforting 
arm  about  me,  "  don't  grieve  for  her;  she  went  joy- 
ously, her  one  regret  being  that  she  could  not  see 
you  once  more  on  earth." 

"  And  mother  has  stood  it  bravely?  " 

"  Yes,  and  is  if  anything,  kinder  than  before,  but 
she  grieves  all  the  time  about  you.  The  only  thing 
that  keeps  her  in  heart  is  your  father's  confidence  in 
your  coming.  He  looks  for  you  every  day,  or  for 
good  news  of  you." 

"  And  does  little  Jean  believe  that  I  am  dead?  " 

"  Oh,  no ;  she  agrees  stoutly  with  Uncle  William, 
and  watches  the  road  for  you,  each  evening." 

"  She  is  almost  grown  now?  " 

"  Quite  grown  up,  and  the  prettiest,  sweetest  lass 
in  the  valley  —  now  Ellen's  gone,"  and  Thomas 
sighed  deeply  and  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  hills  again. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  149 

"Ellen  gone?  What  mean  you,  Thomas? 
Where  would  she  go?  I  thought  she  had  no  other 
relatives." 

"  She  has  no  others,  and  we  do  not  know  where 
she  is.  Three  months  ago  she  disappeared  —  my 
mother  was  harsh  with  her,  and  Ellen  would  not 
brook  it.  One  night  she  slipped  from  her  bed,  took 
father's  riding  horse  from  the  stable,  and  rode  away. 
Three  days  later  the  horse  came  back,  saddled  and 
bridled,  but  we  have  never  heard  a  word  of  Ellen, 
nor  had  a  clew  as  to  her  whereabouts.  Perhaps  the 
horse  threw  and  killed  her;  perhaps  wild  beasts  de- 
voured her;  perhaps  she  was  captured  by  Indians. 
My  mother  says  she  is  hiding  somewhere  to  spite 
us,  and  hardens  her  heart  against  grieving  for  her; 
but  father  and  I  keep  up  constant  search  and  in- 
quiry for  her. 

"  Meantime,  Donald,  our  peace  is  gone,  and  our 
home  is  disgraced.  We  have  driven  the  orphan, 
and  one  of  our  own  blood,  forth  into  the  wilderness, 
to  perish  by  savages  or  by  wild  beasts  —  yet  we 
boast  our  religion,  pray  our  prayers,  sing  our  psalms, 
and  blame  harshly  the  intolerance  of  the  established 
church,  and  the  tyranny  of  the  British!  Do  you 
wonder  that  I'm  half  Tory,  and  whole  heretic,  Don- 
ald?—  at  war  with  my  race,  my  religion,  and  my 
family?" 

"Then  you  loved  Ellen  O'Niel,  Thomas?"  I 
said,  coming  to  the  prompt  conclusion  that  such  mor- 
bid vehemence  could  spring  but  from  one  root. 

"  Yes,  Donald,  I  loved  her,  and  will  always  love 
her  —  or  her  memory,  more  than  aught  else  in  the 
world.  It  was,  I  think,  the  suspicion  that  I  was 


150  DONALD  McELROY 

growing  to  love  Ellen,  and  the  fear  of  her  influence 
over  me,  that  made  my  mother  more  and  more  harsh 
to  her.  She  is  beginning,  however,  to  find  out  that 
if  I  have  lost  Ellen,  she  has  lost  a  son,  and  what 
is  more  to  her,  I  think,  the  church  has  lost  a  preacher. 
She  thought  I  would  soon  get  over  it,  but  now  she 
is  beginning  to  worry  about  it,  and  to  wish  me  to 
find  Ellen.  I  care  little  any  more;  however,  moth- 
er's worries  are  her  chief  sources  of  happiness." 

"  I  do  not  believe  Ellen  is  dead,  Thomas,"  I  said, 
ignoring  his  disrespect  to  his  mother.  "  Either  she 
is  hiding  somewhere,  as  Aunt  Martha  surmises,  or 
she  has  been  carried  off  by  the  Indians.  In  either 
case,  Thomas,  we'll  find  her,  for  I  intend  to  join 
you  in  the  search,  and  will  not  give  up  'till  we  have 
a  sure  clew.  Don't  let  it  trouble  you  so,  laddie,  but 
cheer  up  and  expect  good  news  every  day  as  father 
has  done.  And  I'm  sorry,  Thomas,  to  hear  you  ex- 
press yourself  so  bitterly  against  religion  on  this 
day  of  all  others  —  when  for  the  first  time  I  have 
felt  the  influence  of  converting  grace,"  and  then  I 
told  him  of  Parson  Waddell's  sermon,  and  my  re- 
solve to  be  a  Christian. 

Thomas  was  moved,  I  could  see,  but  he  held 
firmly  to  his  latest  view,  that  religion  in  most  people 
was  naught  but  fanaticism,  and  Presbyterianism  a 
narrowing  creed.  "  If  ever  I  find  Ellen  alive,"  he 
concluded,  "  I  shall  become  a  Catholic  and  marry 
her.  Should  I  be  assured  of  her  death  I  shall  go 
west  as  pioneer  or  scout  or  else  turn  monk." 

"  I  can  offer  you  a  better  career  than  either  of 
those,"  I  replied,  laying  my  hand  on  his  arm,  and 
speaking  cheerfully,  "  and  not  only  a  fine  career,  but, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  151 

if  all  our  searching  hereabouts  fails,  your  best 
chance  to  find  Ellen.  Come  to  see  me,  and  we'll 
talk  it  over." 

At  the  first  bend  in  the  road,  I  turned  to  wave 
to  Thomas;  he  was  stiU  leaning  dejectedly  upon  the 
stile,  his  back  to  me,  and  his  absent  gaze  fixed  upon 
the  mountains.  And  now  surprising  thoughts  and 
feelings  took  possession  of  me.  My  sympathy  for 
Thomas  was  marred  by  sudden  and  unreasoning 
jealousy.  What  right  had  he  to  fall  in  love  with 
Ellen  O'Niel  in  my  absence?  Had  she  not  shown 
plainly  enough  her  preference  for  me?  He  had 
not  been  man  enough  to  protect  her  from  his  moth- 
er's tyranny,  and  yet  he  talked  as  presumptuously 
of  marrying  her  as  if  he  had  earned  a  right  to  her. 
He  had  not  even  found  her  in  all  these  weeks,  and 
was  now  hanging  idly  on  his  father's  stile,  whin- 
ing, and  uttering  blasphemies.  Find  her  and  marry 
her  indeed!  I'd  find  her  myself,  and,  marry  her, 
too,  if  I  pleased,  for  all  he  might  say.  Nor  would 
I  turn  Catholic  and  abuse  my  relatives,  and  the 
religion  of  my  fathers  to  win  her;  rather,  I'd  make 
her  see  she  had  acted  foolishly  and  teach  her  to 
honor  our  creed,  as  I  should  honor  hers.  Ellen,  I 
plainly  saw,  had  needed  sympathy,  and  love,  also 
some  one  to  show  her  the  dangers  of  her  own  im- 
petuous, and  self-willed  nature. 

Thinking  these  thoughts,  I  put  my  horse  to  graze 
in  the  meadow,  and  sat  down  on  the  porch,  drink- 
ing in,  with  profound  content,  the  well  remembered 
prospect,  and  planning  how  I  should  search  mi- 
nutely all  over  the  country  for  Ellen,  and  get  together 
my  recruits  for  Clark's  expedition  at  the  same  time. 


152  DONALD  MCELROY 

Then  I  fell  to  castle  building,  and  it  was  Ellen,  re- 
stored to  us  with  added  beauty  and  a  nobleness  of 
character  developed  by  her  trials,  who  was  to  lend 
charm  and  grace  to  my  "  Castle  in  Spain." 

Already  I  avoided  thoughts  of  Nelly  Buford,  and 
though  they  often  forced  themselves  upon  me,  they 
brought  me  always  regret  and  mortification,  mingled 
still  with  a  lively  sense  of  her  powers  of  fascination. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

The  meeting  with  my  parents  has  a  place  in  my 
memory  so  sacred  that  description  seems  desecra- 
tion. My  mother  went  white  as  the  linen  handker- 
chief she  wore,  and  with  one  sharp  cry,  "O!  Wil- 
liam, it  is  Donald,  our  son!  Oh  my  laddie,  my 
laddie !  "  fell  into  my  outstretched  arms,  weeping 
and  laughing,  in  a  violent  hysteria  of  joy. 

"  There,  there,  Rachael,  wife,  don't  take  on  so," 
said  my  father.  "  Of  course  it's  Donald !  You 
know  I've  always  said  he  was  not  dead;  he's  well 
and  strong,  only  broader  and  more  manly  looking," 
—  and  he  took  mother  out  of  my  arms,  and  began 
to  stroke  her  hair  and  to  soothe  her. 

"  And  this  is  the  little  sister  I  left  three  years 
ago  " —  turning  to  Jean  to  hide  my  own  emotion. 
"  I  can  hardly  believe  it,  yet  the  eyes  are  the  same," 
and  I  kissed  her  and  held  her  off  to  look  at  her, 
saying  teasingly,  "  Why,  Jean,  you  are  almost  as 
pretty  as  our  mother." 

"  Do  you  hear  th  t,  mother?"  asked  my  father 
in  pleased  tones.  "  Don  hasn't  forgotten  his  blar- 
neying ways,  either;  —  just  the  same  lad  who  went 
away  from  us  so  many  months  ago." 

Mother  smiled  at  this,  and  ceased  weeping,  and 
together  we  went  joyfully  into  the  big  room,  where 
I  was  forced  to  turn  aside  to  the  window  to  blink 
back  the  tears  that  welled  up  at  the  recollections 


154  DONALD  McELROY 

of  my  grandmother,  which  the  familiar  room  with 
her  chair  still  in  its  place  called  forth.  Not  until 
mother  followed  me  to  my  room  that  night,  to  sit 
on  the  side  of  my  bed,  as  she  used  to  do  when  I  was 
a  little  boy,  did  we  talk  of  her.  None  of  us  wished 
to  dim  the  pure  joy  of  our  first  hours  together  by 
reference  to  our  bereavement,  and  I  had  so  much 
to  tell  them,  so  many  questions  to  answer. 

Then,  mother  gave  me  a  minute  history  of  grand- 
mother's last  days.  "  You  and  I,  dear  daughter," 
she  had  said  to  my  mother,  "  will  not  for  long  be 
separated;  I  am  just  gangin'  on  a  little  before  you, 
to  make  our  real  hame  the  mair  ready  for  your 
welcome,  but  Donald's  a  young  man,  and  will  live  a 
lang  an'  useful  life,  I  trust.  I  should  like  to  see 
him  once  mair  on  earth,  an'  gie  him  my  last  message. 
But  since  that  could  not  be,  Rachael,  kiss  him  for 
me,  and  tell  him  the  message's  just  the  verra  same 
as  that  I  told  him  the  day  he  held  the  last  hank  o' 
yarn  for  me  —  he'll  not  fail  to  remember,  I'm  sure." 

Then  I  told  my  mother  what  it  was  grandmother 
had  said  to  me,  and  also  of  the  resolution  I  had 
made  that  day  to  live  hereafter  a  Christian's  life. 
Mother  wept  with  me,  tears  of  joy  mixed  with  tears 
of  regret  that  grandmother  was  not  there  to  hear 
the  glad  news.  "  I  hope,  dear  Donald,"  she  said, 
as  she  kissed  me  good  night,  after  the  clock  had 
chimed  the  midnight  hour,  "  that  your  dear  grand- 
mother in  heaven  knows  of  your  conversion,  and  that 
it  adds  to  her  perfect  joy  this  day,  as  it  has  to  mine." 

I  was  too  happy  to  go  to  sleep,  my  heart  too  full 
of  thankfulness  and  high  resolve,  to  be  willing  to 
waste  the  blessed  moments  in  unconsciousness.  So 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  155 

I  lay  awake  until  daybreak,  tasting  with  keener 
and  keener  relish  my  new  found  holy  joy.  Then  I 
fell  asleep,  and  slept  so  restfully  that,  after  two 
hours'  repose,  I  awoke  feeling  as  fresh  as  the  robins, 
caroling  joyously  in  the  branches  of  the  elms  that 
shaded  the  eastern  window  of  my  room. 

Mother  seemed  to  avoid  talking  of  Ellen.  I 
knew  it  was  because  she  could  not  bear  to  blame 
her  sister,  and  yet  she  could  not,  in  justice,  exoner- 
ate her ;  but  with  father  I  discussed  the  matter  freely. 
He  blamed  Aunt  Martha's  severity,  and  had  little 
excuse  to  make  for  her : 

"  She  was  not  only  unsympathetic,  and  harsh  with 
the  child,"  he  said,  "  but,  in  all  save  blows,  she  was 
cruel.  She  overworked  her,  and  tried  hard  to  break 
her  spirit.  Many  a  child  would  have  been  driven 
to  lying,  but  Ellen  was  honest  through  all,  if  she 
was  at  times  defiant  and  disrespectful.  I  do  not 
blame  her  for  running  away;  it  is  what  any  high 
spirited  lad  would  have  done,  long  ago." 

"  Yes,  father,"  I  answered,  "  but  Ellen,  being  a 
girl,  should  have  been  more  submissive  to  authority, 
more  meek  it  seems  to  me.  Think  what  fearful 
risks  she  took  in  running  away." 

"  The  very  fact  that  a  woman  must  take  such 
grave  risks  in  pursuing  any  course  of  action  not 
countenanced  by  her  lawful  protectors,  makes  her 
condition  the  more  pitiable  under  oppression.  Ellen 
was  completely  in  your  aunt's  power;  no  relief  was 
possible  to  her,  save  from  some  act  of  desperation 
such  as  the  one  she  was  guilty  of." 

"  Could  she  not  have  found  refuge  somewhere  in 
the  neighborhood?" 


156  DONALD  McELROY 

"  No  one  would  have  taken  her  in.  It  would  not 
do  to  encourage  the  child  in  disrespect  and  disobedi- 
ence." 

"  What  do  you  surmise  has  been  her  fate, 
father?  "  with  an  effort  to  speak  calmly. 

"  I  think  it  most  likely  she  has  been  carried  off 
by  some  band  of  roving  Indians.  She  doubtless 
tried  to  find  her  way  back  to  Baltimore,  lost  her 
way,  and  was  picked  up  by  the  savages.  She,  I  sur- 
mise, watched  the  chance  to  turn  the  horse  loose, 
that  he  might  find  his  way  home." 

"  They  would  hardly  kill  her." 

"No;  more  likely  they  have  taken  her  to  their 
village,  and  are  training  her  for  a  chief's  squaw." 

The  thought  blanched  my  cheek,  and  I  resolved  to 
make  inquiry  and  search  from  the  crest  of  the  Blue 
Ridge  all  the  way  to  the  Mississippi,  and  not  to  re- 
turn home  till  I  had  found  Ellen,  or  had  gotten 
some  clew  to  her  fate. 

"  Uncle  Thomas  has  searched  the  neighborhood 
thoroughly  you  think?  " 

"  He  and  Tom  have  made  enquiry  at  every  house 
in  the  county,  I  am  sure ;  have  sent  to  Charlottesville 
and  Richmond;  written  to  Baltimore,  and  posted 
notices  at  every  store  and  cross  roads  between 
here  and  Maryland.  No,  I  think  there's  little 
room  for  doubt  that  she's  been  carried  west  by 
Indians." 

"  That's  what  I  told  Thomas,  yesterday,  and  ad- 
vised him  that  our  best  chance  to  find  her  was  to  go 
with  Clark  on  this  expedition  to  the  Kentucky  border, 
next  month." 

"  What  expedition,  son?     I  had  heard  no  rumor 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  157 

of  it  —  and  do  you  mean  George  Rogers  Clark, 
the  Kentucky  pioneer  and  friend  of  Daniel 
Boone?  " 

"  The  very  same,  father,  and  a  most  remarkable 
young  man  he  is."  Then  I  went  on  to  tell  of  my 
interview  with  Governor  Henry,  Captain  Clark,  Mr. 
Jefferson  and  the  rest,  and  of  the  service  to  which 
I  had  engaged  myself. 

I  saw  at  once  that  my  father  was  not  pleased,  and 
now  for  the  first  time,  I  felt  the  chilling  influence  of 
his  disapproval  of  my  plans.  He  had  never  ap- 
proved the  forward  movement  into  Kentucky,  be- 
lieving it  to  have  been  worked  up  by  land  companies, 
that  they  might  line  their  pockets  at  the  expense  of 
the  lives  of  the  settlers. 

"  I  have  never  grudged  your  services  in  the  cause 
of  our  independence,  Donald,"  he  said,  "  nor  would 
I  your  life  even,  were  the  sacrifice  of  it  necessary; 
but  I  cannot  feel  it  our  duty  to  give  you  up  a  victim 
to  the  scalping  knife  of  some  savage,  in  order  that 
this  rash  project  of  the  premature  settlement  of 
Kentucky  should  be  encouraged.  Have  we  not  al- 
ready more  land  than  we  can  protect,  and  properly 
cultivate?  The  Kentucky  settlers  would  do  much 
better  to  move  back  over  the  mountains  'til  our 
independence  has  been  won  —  when  Virginia  will  be 
able  to  establish  posts,  garrison  them  adequately,  and 
furnish  sufficient  protection  to  make  emigrating  to 
Kentucky  other  than  wanton  self-destruction.  Why 
not  stay  with  us,  lad,  since  you  are  honorably  re- 
leased from  service  for  a  while?  —  you'll  never 
know  how  much  we've  missed  you  these  three  long 
years." 


158  DONALD  McELROY 

"  Father,"  I  replied,  laying  my  hand  on  his,  and 
inwardly  reproaching  myself  bitterly  for  my  com- 
parative indifference,  now  that  I  realized  how  much 
my  long  absence  had  really  meant  to  him,  "  if  my 
word  had  not  been  given,  if  I  had  not  already  taken 
service  for  this  expedition,  it  would  be  my  pleasure 
to  make  my  own  wishes  second  to  yours.  But  now, 
father,  it  is  too  late.  I  cannot  honorably  draw  back. 
Moreover,  I  must  join  in  the  search  for  Ellen.  I 
could  never  stay  quietly  at  home  as  long  as  there 
is  uncertainty  as  to  her  fate.  And  I  think  I  can 
unite  the  two  duties,  follow  Clark  and  make  constant 
search  for  Ellen  from  the  mountains  to  the  mouth 
of  the  Ohio.  Thomas  will  go  with  me,  I  think. 
He'd  far  better  do  that  than  some  of  the  rash  things 
he  is  contemplating." 

"  It  will  almost  break  his  mother's  heart,  but  she 
deserves  it,"  spoke  my  father,  harshly  for  him,  who 
was  usually  calm  and  mild  in  his  judgments. 

I  think  at  this  time  I  had  more  tolerance  for  Aunt 
Martha  than  any  one  in  the  family,  except  my 
mother.  To  my  mind  Ellen  had  not  been  blameless, 
and  Aunt  Martha's  harshness  was  to  have  been  ex- 
pected from  her  character,  and  the  spirit  in  which 
she  had  received  the  child.  I  put  much  of  the  blame 
on  Uncle  Thomas  for  his  unmanly  meekness,  and 
part  on  the  neighborhood  for  not  speaking  out  its 
sympathy  for  the. child  until  too  late.  And  when  I 
thought  of  her  probable  sufferings,  and  dangers,  I 
almost  ground  my  teeth  in  impotent  rage  with  them 
all. 

Poor  little  Ellen!  With  her  indomitable  spirit, 
and  courageous  faithfulness,  what  a  cold,  hard,  love- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  159 

less  life  she  had  had  these  three  years !  And  hers 
was  a  nature  made  for  happiness  and  love,  one  to 
expand  under  appreciation  and  sympathy,  as  a  morn- 
ing glory  opens  in  the  early  sun's  rays,  and  to  fold 
close  all  its  beauty  and,  sweetness  under  the  chilling 
influence  of  disapproval,  as  the  morning  glory  on  a 
cold  and  sunless  day. 

"  You'll  not  withhold  your  consent,  I  hope,  father, 
to  my  going  with  Clark,"  I  said  when  we  had  sat 
together  in  silence  for  a  while.  "  This  expedition 
means  far  more  to  our  country  than  appears,  and 
before  the  expiration  of  my  year's  parole  I  shall  be 
back,  I  hope,  ready  to  engage  in  the  regular  service 
again,  should  the  war  not  yet  be  ended." 

"  You  will  take  my  consent  and  blessing,  Donald, 
and  my  love  and  prayers  upon  any  honest  adventure 
you  see  fit  to  enter.  But  I  grieve,  lad,  for  your 
mother.  This  last  strain  of  anxiety  about  you,  fol- 
lowing so  soon  upon  the  shock  of  her  mother's 
death,  came  nigh  killing  her.  Tell  her  yourself, 
lad,  and  soften  the  blow  as  much  as  you  can." 

Women  are  unaccountable  creatures.  They  are 
apt  to  do  the  least  expected  things,  and  to  take 
quietly  the  news  you  most  dread  to  break  to  them. 
So  it  proved  in  my  mother's  case.  She  went  white 
for  an  instant,  and  her  hands  began  to  tremble,  but 
she  spoke  quietly: 

"  I  knew,  Donald,  you'd  never  be  content  to  dwell 
idly  at  home,  when  there's  so  much  doing  in  the 
land;  nor  would  I  be  so  proud  of  my  lad  were  he 
less  a  man  of  deeds,  and  duty.  Governor  Henry 
and  Captain  Clark  honored  you  in  taking  you  into 
their  cenfidence ;  they  saw  that  my  son  is  no  ordinary 


160  DONALD  McELROY 

man,"   and  she  stroked  the  hand  that  had  taken 
hers,  and  smiled  tearfully  upon  me. 

"  That  such  men  as  Governor  Henry,  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son, Mr.  Mason,  and  Mr.  Wythe  take  an  interest 
in  the  expedition  would  seem  to  mean,  Donald,"  she 
went  on  presently,  "  that  they  have  some  more  im- 
portant object  in  view  than  to  protect  a  few  scattered 
emigrants.  If  the  rumored  alliance  of  the  French 
with  us  is  confirmed,  they  may  intend  to  use  Clark's 
troops  to  make  a  surprise  advance  on  the  western 
forts,  recently  ceded  by  France  to  England.  That 
would  overawe  the  Indians  and  strike  a  blow  at  the 
British  power  at  the  same  time." 

My  mother's  shrewdness  so  astonished  me  that  I 
came  near  telling  her  all  I  knew.  "  You  may  be 
right,  mother,"  I  answered  nonchalantly,  after  a  mo- 
ment; "certainly  we  hope  to  overawe  the  Indians, 
but  our  present  instructions  go  no  further  than  safe 
conduct  for  the  band  of  emigrants,  and  an  attack 
upon  the  Indians,  should  we  find  them  on  the  war- 
path, or  plotting  an  attack  on  the  border  settlements. 
It  lifts  a  weight  from  my  heart,  mother,  dear,  to 
have  your  approval,"  I  added. 

"  You  are  a  man,  Donald ;  it  would  be  presump- 
tion in  your  mother  to  withhold  her  blessing  from 
any  worthy  thing  you  had  set  your  heart  upon.  As 
for  your  safety,  dear,  I  must  leave  that  in  God's 
hands.  I  trust  you  to  Our  Heavenly  Father's  care, 
my  son,  with  only  the  shield  of  our  hourly  prayers 
about  you." 

Recruiting  was  no  easy  task,  especially  with  the 
account  I  was  free  to  give  of  the  object  of  our  ex- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  161 

pedition.  I  encountered  all  sorts  of  objections  and 
discouragements,  and  was  obliged  to  travel  from  end 
to  end  of  the  county,  and  into  the  district  of  West 
Augusta,  with  little  left  of  my  two  months'  antici- 
pated holiday  to  spend  at  home.  I  grew  impatient 
of  my  ill  success,  especially  since  all  my  enquiries  in 
the  county  concerning  Ellen  were  as  fruitless  as 
Thomas'  had  been.  There  was  no  other  conclusion 
left  us  than  the  one  my  father  had  reached,  and 
both  Thomas  and  I  grew  more  and  more  restless  to 
start  westward,  that  we  might  begin  a  more  hopeful 
search. 

At  last  I  was  enabled  to  add  Captain  Bowman's 
company  to  the  score  of  volunteers  I  had  been  able 
to  get  together,  although  this  made  it  necessary  that 
I  should  yield  him  my  place  as  captain,  and  content 
myself  with  a  lieutenant's  rank.  Captain  Bowman 
was  encouraged  by  the  prospect  of  glory  and  land 
grants,  the  men  satisfied  with  large  but  vague  prom- 
ises; and  by  the  middle  of  May  we  were  ready  to 
start. 

Clark  —  recently  made  colonel  by  Governor 
Henry  —  with  three  companies,  each  of  less  than 
fifty  men,  and  a  band  of  emigrants,  had  already 
reached  the  falls  of  the  Ohio,  and  we  were  ordered 
to  join  him  there  as  speedily  as  possible. 


CHAPTER  XV 

It  was  marvelous  what  Clark  had  accomplished 
with  less  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  men  in  the  three 
weeks  he  had  been  at  the  Falls,  and  I  now  conceived 
a  higher  opinion  than  ever  of  the  rare  qualities  of 
the  man.  He  had  a  faculty  for  organization,  and 
for  using  men  and  circumstances  which  amounted  to 
genius  of  the  noblest  order.  Already  he  had  builded 
a  substantial  block  house  on  Corn  Island,  just  above 
the  Falls,  in  which  all  his  goods,  supplies,  and  am- 
munition were  stored;  the  newly  enlisted  men  had 
been  taught  some  idea  of  the  duties  and  requirements 
of  soldiers  by  the  work,  systematically  organized,  of 
clearing  and  building,  by  the  regular  camp  life,  and 
the  daily  drills  which  they  practiced.  Still  more  im- 
portant, they  had  acquired  unbounded  confidence  in 
their  leader,  and  all  his  orders  were  obeyed  with  a 
cheerful  alacrity  that  promised  well  for  our  project. 

The  camp  presented  a  busy  and  cheerful  scene,  and 
the  neighboring  settlement  of  emigrants  had  already 
the  promise  of  a  village  in  the  dozen  log  cabins  built, 
or  building,  surrounded  by  newly  broken  ground, 
ready  for  the  corn  planting.  Our  company  was  re- 
ceived with  enthusiasm,  and  Captain  Bowman  by 
Clark  with  the  consideration  due  his  rank  and  age. 
Publicly  I  had  only  the  formal  recognition  of  an 
acquaintance,  but  as  soon  as  we  had  been  assigned  a 
place  for  our  camp,  and  the  ax-men  set  to  cutting 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  163 

poles  for  our  booths,  Colonel  Clark,  who,  meantime, 
had  concluded  his  interview  with  Captain  Bowman, 
and  given  personal  attention  to  the  pitching  of  a 
small  tent  for  his  accommodation,  sent  a  messenger 
to  me  with  word  that  I  would  please  follow  the  man 
to  the  block-house.  There  Colonel  Clark  awaited 
me  in  a  small  room  adjoining  the  one  in  which  the 
ammunition  and  extra  arms  were  kept;  he  had  taken 
this  room  for  his  own  quarters  that  he  might  watch 
over  his  precious  store  of  lead  and  powder  and  guard 
against  its  waste. 

"  With  three  hundred  like  you,  McElroy,  I'd  ven- 
ture an  attack  upon  Quebec  itself,"  was  Clark's 
greeting,  as  he  seized  and  shook  both  my  hands  in 
a  grip  that  cramped  them,  "  I  see  what  you've  done, 
stepped  down  rank  a  grade  in  order  to  get  Bowman's 
militiamen  to  fill  up  your  company.  It  glads  my 
heart,  McElroy,  to  know  there's  one  kindred  spirit 
in  this  enterprise  with  me." 

The  proud  distinction  had  been  mine  of  claiming 
a  personal  friendship  with  Colonel  Morgan.  Also  I 
had  been  commended  by  General  Arnold  for  my 
bravery  at  Freeman's  Farm,  but  more  than  all  these 
Colonel  Clark's  recognition  of  a  sacrifice  which  had 
cost  my  pride  no  easy  struggle,  gratified  me.  Clark 
read  men  as  a  master  in  geometry  reads  his  black- 
board, and  found  as  little  difficulty  in  solving  the 
human  problem.  Captain  Bowman  he  had  won  to 
hearty  cooperation  in  his  plans  by  treating  him  with 
the  dignified  consideration  he  deemed  his  due,  and 
now  he  took  the  surest  way  to  fasten  me  to  him 
as  with  hooks  of  steel. 

"  You    have    accomplished     so    much    already, 


1 64  DONALD  McELROY 

Colonel  Clark,"  said  I,  "  that  I  have  less  doubt  than 
ever  before  of  the  success  of  your  project.  Your 
raw  recruits  are  already  soldierly  in  bearing,  and 
your  camp  as  orderly  as  a  barrack.  Our  com- 
pany will  be  the  awkward  squad  of  your  com- 
mand." 

"  Two  weeks'  training  will  bring  them  up  with  the 
rest,"  answered  Clark.  "  Most  of  them  are  Scotch 
Irishmen  I  see  —  that  is  saying  all  that  is  necessary. 
But  I  must  tell  you  my  plans  before  we  are  inter- 
rupted. I  shall  often  want  your  secret  counsel,  until 
the  opportunity  comes  to  give  you  a  place  on  my 
staff.  How  much,  think  you,  does  Captain  Bowman 
know?" 

"  Only,  I  surmise,  that  we  are  here  to  protect  the 
frontier,  and  that  it  is  probable  we  may  be  com- 
manded to  make  a  foray  into  the  lands  of  the  Iro- 
quois,  in  which  case  our  chances  for  promotion  and 
bounty  lands  will  be  increased." 

"  That  is  well.  He  knows  enough  to  have  a  mind 
prepared  for  further  disclosure,  and  is  not  likely  to 
turn  back  when  he  knows  all.  Did  any  suspicion  of 
our  real  object  seem  to  occur  to  any  one  in  your 
neighborhood?  " 

"  To  no  one  except  to  my  mother,  and  I  easily 
allayed  her  shrewd  suspicions.  Most  of  our  people 
were  disposed  to  blame  our  project  as  diverting 
strength  from  the  cause." 

"  More  than  anything  else  I  am  dreading  that  the 
English  may  get  some  information  as  to  our  move- 
ments, their  suspicions  be  aroused,  and  the  garrisons 
at  Vincennes  and  Kaskaskia  reenforced.  I  have  cer- 
tain information,  through  spies  I  have  been  sending 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  165 

out  all  summer,  that  both  places  are  sparsely  gar- 
risoned at  present,  the  men  having  been  withdrawn 
to  defend  Canadian  forts,  which  are  thought  to  be 
more  exposed.  Also  that  the  commandant  and  most 
of  the  garrisons,  if  not  ajl,  at  Kaskaskia  are  French, 
and  not  overfond  of  their  new  British  masters,  while 
the  English  officer  in  charge  of  Vincennes  is  just  now 
absent  at  Detroit.  You  see,  therefore,  that  we  run 
but  little  risk  of  failure,  if  only  our  plans  can  be  kept 
secret." 

"  Certainly  the  prospect  is  so  far  encouraging. 
When  do  we  start  and  by  what  route?  " 

"  In  ten  days  or  two  weeks,  down  the  river  by  boat 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Tennessee,  and,  I  suppose,  land- 
ward to  Kaskaskia  —  since  that  is  the  weaker  point. 
Meantime  we  must  drill  and  enthuse  our  men,  load 
our  boats  and  get  all  in  readiness  for  a  forced  march. 
It  will  be  best,  I  think,  not  to  inform  the  men  of  our 
destination  till  necessary. 

"  Hello,  Givens!  "  as  a  face  appeared  before  the 
open  window  — "  come  in  !  "  Then,  lowering  his 
voice  to  me  — "  be  careful,  McElroy,  in  your  talk  to 
the  scout;  he  doesn't  know  all  yet,  and  it  is  necessary 
to  reveal  our  plans  to  him  gradually,  and  to  use  some 
persuasion;  he  hates  the  Indians,  and  longs  to  fight 
them,  but  he  has  never  consented  to  bear  arms  against 
Great  Britain.  Nor  do  I  want  to  persuade  him 
against  his  convictions,  but  he'll  not  be  of  much  serv- 
ice to  us  unless  he  is  one  with  us.  If  he  does  con- 
sent freely  to  go  on  he  will  be  as  valuable  as  an  inter- 
preter as  he  has  been  so  far  as  a  scout  and  guide. 
I'm  loath  to  lose  his  services." 

Givens  had  by  this  time  made  his  way  through  the 


1 66  DONALD  McELROY 

armory,  and  was  knocking  on  Clark's  door.  His 
recognition  of  me  was  immediate. 

"  Glad  ter  meet  yer  ergin,  Capt'n  McElroy," 
speaking  with  his  usual  emphatic  drawl,  and  with 
hand  outstretched  cordially.  "  Couldn't  resist  ther 
temptation,  yer  see,  uv  goin'  ergin  ther  red-skinned 
devils  onct  more  'fore  ole  age  kitches  me,  en'  lays 
me  by  ther  heels.  But  ther  savages's  wary,  sence 
they  larn't  thet  last  lesson  we  sot  'm  so  mighty  well 
et  Pint  Pleasant.  'Tain't  ther  intentions,  'pears  like, 
ter  walk  inter  no  more  sich  traps;  besides  er  leader 
like  Cornstalk's  procious  sildom  found  'mongst  'urn. 
They'll  be  mighty  apt,  though,  ter  be  at  ther  native 
tricks  uv  skulkin'  roun'  en'  bushwackin'  en'  ambushin' 
ef  we  give  'urn  enny  chanst.  Long  es  we  keeps  ter- 
gether,  howsomever,  en'  in  ther  open  they  ain't  no 
ways  likely  ter  distarb  us." 

"  This  block-house  is  a  substantial  warning  to 
them,  Givens,"  put  in  Clark;  "  I  wish  we  had  forts 
all  through  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  country;  that 
would  be  the  surest  way  to  drive  and  hold  back  the 
savages." 

"  And  now  that  the  English  are  arming  the  In- 
dians and  using  them  to  intimidate  the  border  col- 
onies, we  must  make  a  big  show  of  strength,  or  all 
our  frontier  settlements  will  be  wiped  out,"  said  I. 

"  Do  you  believe  thet  thar  'tale,  Capt'n?  "  asked 
Givens,  a  flush  rising  to  his  cheeks.  '  'Tain't  like 
the  gallant  English." 

"  I  think  there's  small  doubt  of  it,  it's  by  King 
George's  command  and  is  not  approved  by  his  min- 
isters, I  understand.  Governor  Henry  has  had  most 
positive  information  to  that  effect  recently." 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  167 

"  If  thet's  so,  I  ain't  no  longer  countin'  myself  er 
loyal  subject,"  said  Givens,  speaking  even  more 
slowly  and  emphatically  than  usual.  "  Ef  ther  Eng- 
lish king  es  capabul'  uv  armin'  red  skins,  en'  turnin' 
'em  loose  on  ther  settlements  ter  murder  innocent 
wimmen  en'  babies,  then  I'm  done  bein'  loyal  ter  'im. 
I'd  es  lief  jine  ther  Continentals  en'  fight  'um  wid 
ther  rest  uv  yer." 

Clark  gave  me  a  sly  and  eloquent  look  and,  with 
that  tact  which  amounted  to  a  sixth  sense  with  him, 
turned  the  subject  at  precisely  the  right  moment. 
"  Where's  your  foster  son  this  afternoon,  Givens  ? 
I  haven't  seen  him  since  drill  this  morning." 

"  Oh,  I  got  a  furlough  fur  'im,  en'  sont  'im  over 
ter  ther  settlement.  He  ain't  over  strong,  so  I  saves 
'im  all  thet's  possible.  He's  powerful  frens  uv  some 
uv  ther  wimmen  en'  chillun  down  ter  the  settlement, 
en'  sence  he  ain't  so  mighty  strong  I'm  glad  fur  'im 
ter  hev  ther  milk  en'  ther  eggs  they  meks  'im  eat." 

Just  then  Clark  was  called  out  a  minute,  and  I 
took  this  opportunity  to  tell  Givens  about  Ellen 
O'Niel,  of  her  having  left  her  home,  of  our  long 
fruitless  search  for  her,  and  of  our  finally  having 
reached  the  conclusion  that  she  had  been  captured 
and  carried  off  by  Indians ;  of  our  hope  of  finding  her 
or  getting  some  clew  to  her  fate  during  this  expedi- 
tion, and  my  reliance  on  him  to  help  me  make  en- 
quiries among  the  various  Indian  tribes  we  might 
meet. 

At  first  he  asked  me  a  few  questions  as  to  the  time 
Ellen  left  home,  her  age,  appearance,  etc.  Then  he 
pulled  his  cap  over  his  eyes,  and  listened  silently. 

"  You  do  not  think  it  likely  the   Indians  have 


168  DONALD  McELROY 

killed  her?"  I  asked  anxiously,  his  silence  seeming 
ominous. 

"  Taint  like  ther  red  skinned  devils  ter  kill  er 
handsum'  young  gal." 

"  Then  do  you  not  think  we  have  good  prospect  of 
finding  her,  and  will  not  the  Indians  be  glad  to  take 
a  big  ransom  for  her?  " 

"  Thar's  some  prospects,  I  reckin',  en'  ef  we  find 
'er  we'll  git  'er,"  was  the  scout's  answer,  as  he  got 
up  and  marched  off,  his  skin  cap  still  pulled  down 
over  his  eyes. 

Once  during  the  next  two  weeks,  I  had  Givens' 
step-son  pointed  out  to  me;  his  youth,  his  shyness, 
and  the  scout's  special  watchfulness  over  him,  seemed 
to  have  excited  a  good  deal  of  interest.  I,  too,  felt 
some  curiosity.  Givens  had  said  nothing  to  me  of 
a  foster  son  the  day  I  had  visited  him,  though  it  is 
true  our  conversation  was  confined  to  the  one  topic, 
and  there  was  no  occasion  to  mention  any  other. 
Perhaps  he  was  not  then  with  Givens,  or  the  form  I 
took  to  be  a  woman's  in  the  adjoining  room  was  his, 
the  swish  of  a  woman's  skirts  being  added  by  my  im- 
agination. Well,  it  was  no  concern  of  mine,  either 
way,  and  I  had  enough  to  do  and  to  think  about. 

Thomas  Mitchell,  who  had  improved  greatly  in 
health  and  spirits,  under  the  influence  of  an  out-door, 
active  life,  and  manly  duties,  came  to  me  about  a 
week  after  our  arrival  at  Corn  Island,  and  with  an 
air  of  mystery  led  me  off  down  the  river  some  little 
distance  from  the  camp. 

"  Do  you  know,  Donald,"  he  said  almost  in  a 
whisper,  "  I  am  convinced  the  scout,  Givens,  knows 
something  abput  Ellen?  " 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  169 

"  And  why  do  you  think  so?  " 

"  I  was  telling  him  the  story  of  her  disappearance, 
and  our  vain  search  for  her,  to-day,  in  the  hope  of 
getting  him  interested,  and  he  seemed  already  to 
know  everything." 

"  Well,"  I  laughed,  "  that  is  not  strange.  I  also 
told  him  a  week  ago,  and  for  the  same  reason." 

"  Oh,  did  you !  Still  that  does  not  fully  account 
for  his  manner,  Donald,  nor  his  unwillingness  to 
continue  the  subject.  He's  got  some  clew,  I'm  sure." 

Colonel  Clark  now  detailed  eighteen  of  the  least 
bold  of  his  men  to  remain  behind  at  the  block-house, 
for  the  protection  of  the  settlers,  and  of  our  extra 
supplies.  He  then  allowed  his  officers  to  make 
known  that  we  were  about  to  start  on  a  further  jour- 
ney down  the  Ohio  —  the  object  and  destination  of 
which  would  be  revealed  just  before  the  start  was 
made.  Confusion  and  speculation  reigned  in  camp; 
boats  were  loaded;  rifles  cleaned;  ramrods  whittled 
from  the  hearts  of  hard  wood  saplings;  a  supply  of 
bullets  molded,  and  a  lot  of  new  moccasins  and 
bullet  pouches  made,  by  those  skilled  in  such  work, 
from  the  skins  we  had  collected. 

At  the  afternoon  drill  hour,  on  the  twenty-third 
of  June,  Clark  presented  himself,  in  riflemen's  uni- 
form, before  his  men,  and  was  greeted  with  enthusi- 
astic cheers.  He  gave  orders  to  the  captains  that 
the  men  should  form  in  two  columns,  and  then  swing 
out  in  double  line  facing  him.  The  maneuver  was 
executed  without  a  hitch,  and  our  small  force  pre- 
sented a  fine  soldierly  appearance.  Most  of  the  men 
were  past  early  youth,  either  brawny  pioneers  or 
substantial  freeholders,  many  of  them  being  persons 


1 70  DONALD  McELROY 

of  some  education,  and  considerable  weight  in  their 
own  communities.  They  were  not,  as  some  have 
charged,  a  set  of  mere  adventurers. 

The  occasion  and  the  scene  were  well  calculated 
to  impress  one  who  realized  their  import,  and  as  I 
walked  back  and  forth  to  dress  the  line,  my  imag- 
ination took  fire,  and  all  the  daring  deeds  I  knew  of 
tradition  and  history  marshaled  themselves  in  my 
memory  —  a  long  and  glorious  array. 

"  My  men,"  spoke  Colonel  Clark,  when  all  were 
waiting  in  expectant  silence  — "  shall  we  press  on- 
ward to  a  glorious  enterprise  —  or  having  conducted 
our  emigrants,  and  established  them  here  in  safety, 
shall  we  turn  homeward  without  having  wrought  any 
deed  worthy  to  be  written  on  the  page  of  our  coun- 
try's history?  I  can  lead  you  on  to  the  performance 
of  such  deed,  my  men  —  that  noble  friend  of  liberty, 
Patrick  Henry,  has  sanctioned  a  daring  enterprise, 
which  all  along,  I  have  had  in  my  mind,  and  which, 
if  successfully  executed,  will  bring  honor  and  domin- 
ion to  our  noble  commonwealth,  and  to  each  of  us 
renown,  fortune,  and  the  gratitude  of  all  Virginians. 
Not  only  so,  but  in  executing  this  bold  plan,  we  shall 
strike  a  telling  blow  for  that  cause  we  all  hold  dear- 
est. 

"  No  need,  my  men,  to  say  what  that  cause  is  — 
the  cause  to  which  the  heart  of  every  man  present, 
I  truly  believe,  responds  as  gladly,  as  the  tenderly 
nurtured  infant  to  its  mother's  loving  call.  The 
cause  of  liberty  for  which  each  one  of  us  would 
proudly  shed  his  blood!  Nor  is  the  cause  unwor- 
thy such  devotion,  my  comrades,  for  'tis  not  only 
that  of  our  country's  independence,  of  American  lib- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  171 

erty,  of  blessed  freedom  and  rare  privileges  for  our 
descendants  — 'tis  the  cause  of  the  world's  liberty,  of 
the  freedom  from  kingly  tyranny  and  the  right  to 
seek  happiness  for  all  future  generations  of  men,  till 
time  shall  be  no  more..  My  brothers,  future  ages 
will  look  back  to  us  and  call  us  blessed,  will  offer 
thanks  to  Heaven  for  the  brave  and  determined  peo- 
ple of  the  new  continent,  who  freely  risked  all  for 
liberty  —  threw  into  the  scales  against  the  claims  of 
oppressed  humanity,  every  present  good,  every  hope 
for  the  future.  Are  you  willing,  my  men,  to  sac- 
rifice still  further,  to  risk  still  more  for  the  cause? 
Shall  I  tell  you  more?  Shall  we  press  onward?  " 

"Onward!  Colonel,  onward!"  yelled  the  men 
in  wild  enthusiasm  — "  tell  us  more,  tell  us  more ! 
Onward!  Onward!" 

Then  Clark  told  them  the  true  object  of  our  ex- 
pedition, and  unfolded  all  his  plans,  which  had  been 
so  well  concealed,  hiding  from  them  nothing  of  the 
hardships  and  risks  of  the  undertaking.  Yet  he 
dwelt  long  and  eloquently  upon  the  tremendous  con- 
sequences of  success,  the  glory  that  would  be  theirs, 
and  the  important  results  to  Virginia  and  the  cause. 
He  added  that  he  wanted  no  half  hearted  consent, 
that  he  far  preferred  that  all  those  who  were  not 
enlisted  heart  and  soul  in  the  enterprise  —  ready  to 
do  and  to  dare  all  things, —  should  make  their  deci- 
sion now.  They  could  do  so  by  stepping  out  of 
ranks.  Seventeen  men  stepped  out,  looking  sullen 
and  ashamed  of  themselves. 

"You  are  free  to  go,"  said  Clark,  with  a  con- 
temptuous wave  of  the  hand  towa_rd  the  east;  then 
he  faced  the  faithful  again,  and  made  them  a  brief 


1 72  DONALD  MCELROY 

speech,  which  set  them  wild,  and  sent  them  off  to 
their  booths  so  eager  to  begin  our  adventure  that 
they  could  scarcely  wait  for  the  night  to  pass. 

During  the  first  part  of  Colonel  Clark's  address, 
I  had  watched  Givens,  close  by.  His  face  was  a 
study  of  mingled  interest,  eagerness  and  doubt. 
When  Clark  gave  the  command  that  all  who  did  not 
wish  to  follow  him  should  step  out  of  ranks,  he 
started  forward,  hesitated,  then  dropped  back  into 
rank,  where  presently,  he  was  cheering  with  the 
rest.  When  all  were  gone  except  the  officers  assem- 
bled around  Clark,  Givens  came  up  to  him. 

"  Colonel,"  he  said,  "  I've  tuck  my  stand  by  yer 
fur  good  en'  all;  yer  may  fight  Injuns,  ur  British,  ur 
what  yer  please,  I'm  with  yer." 

"  Thank  you,  Givens,"  said  Clark,  shaking  his 
hand  heartily;  "  we  could  ill  afford  to  lose  you." 

"  Mebbe  you'd  better  thank  that  boy  uv  mine. 
Him  yer've  plum  bewitched,  en  wher'  he  goes,  goes 
Givens." 

That  night  as  I  wandered  about  the  camp  —  it 
was  all  astir  till  long  after  midnight — I  got  wind 
of  the  fact  that  some  of  the  deserters  were  lurking 
around  trying  to  persuade  others  to  sneak  off  with 
them,  and  went  straight  to  Clark  with  the  informa- 
tion. 

"  Detail  a  squad  from  your  company,  McElroy, 
and  surround  the  camp  with  a  close  cordon  of 
guards,"  said  Clark,  promptly. 

I  did  so;  then  Clark  had  the  drum  beat,  and  the 
men  called  to  the  drill  ground,  where  waning  moon 
and  twinkling  stars  gave  barely  light  enough  for 
them  to  see  each  other's  faces. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  173 

"  Silence !  "  commanded  Clark,  stilling  the  con- 
fusion with  a  word.  "  I  understand  that  the  cow- 
arcte  who  deserted  us  this  evening  are  in  the  camp 
attempting  to  stir  up  mutiny.  It  must  be  stopped. 
The  deserters  must  leave  camp  immediately,  or  suf- 
fer the  penalty  of  mutineers  and  traitors.  Should 
any  other  man,  except  these,  attempt  to  leave  the 
camp  he  will  be  arrested  or  shot  by  the  guards  now 
surrounding  it.  You  had  your  chance,  men,  and 
took  your  choice;  you  must  now  abide  by  your  de- 
cision. To-morrow  we  start  for  Kaskaskia." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

A  June  sky  a-nd  a  resplendent  sun,  undimmed  by 
cloud  or  mist,  beamed  upon  the  camp  next  morning, 
as  we  made  last  preparations  for  our  departure. 
Those  of -the  men  who  had  been  detailed  to  "  stay 
by  the  stuff,"  at  the  block-house,  were  plainly  dis- 
satisfied, now  that  they  realized  that  they  were  to 
be  left  out  of  the  adventures  and  chances,  as  well 
as  the  toils  and  dangers  of  our  enterprise.  Those 
who  had  made  the  bolder  choice  were  as  eager  as 
boys  starting  on  a  first  bear  hunt.  The  uncertainty 
as  to  what  might  befall  us,  the  unknown  country  we 
must  traverse,  the  very  dangers  we  would  probably 
encounter,  all  lent  mystery  and  excitement  to  our 
undertaking. 

The  entire  population  of  the  settlement,  and  all 
the  block-house  garrison  were  assembled  on  the  river 
bank  to  say  good-by  to  us.  The  women  were  in 
tears,  the  men  quiet  and  serious ;  we,  on  the  contrary, 
were  hilarious  with  excitement. 

Colonel  Clark  again  addressed  the  men  in  words 
stirring  and  heroic,  and  the  command  to  embark  was 
given.  Company  by  company  we  stepped  upon  the 
flat  boats,  and  drifted  rapidly  down  the  Ohio  to  the 
falls,  each  raft  guided  by  a  skilled  poleman,  who 
stood  erect,  steering  carefully  for  the  one  channel 
through  which  we  could  safely  shoot  the  falls.  The 
crowd  on  the  bank  was  still  cheering  the  last  boat 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  175 

load,  as  the  first  dropped  over  the  edge  of  the  rapids. 
At  that  moment  the  sun,  which  had  beamed  less 
fiercely  for  some  time,  though  in  our  engrossment 
we  had  taken  little  notice  of  the  fact,  became  sud- 
denly obscured,  and  the  dimness  of  twilight  fell  upon 
gliding  river,  green  banks,  and  tumbling  falls.  One 
could  scarcely  recognize  the  faces  of  his  companions 
beside  him  in  the  boat,  nor  the  polemen  see  to  steer. 
The  cheering  ceased,  and  over  man,  beast  and  nature 
fell  an  awesome  stillness.  The  birds  in  the  branches 
of  the  overhanging  trees  ceased  their  glad  caroling, 
the  insects  their  buzzing,  the  fish  their  plunging,  even 
the  hurrying  river  seemed  hushed  into  a  more  sub- 
dued murmur,  and  the  noise  of  the  falls  to  subside 
into  a  muffled  roar. 

The  men  in  my  boat  drew  in  their  breath;  one 
uttered  a  stifled  sigh,  another  a  low  moan ;  and  I  real- 
ized that  a  word  might  precipitate  a  panic.  I  stood 
up  and  studied  the  sky  for  explanation  of  the  phe- 
nomenon. The  sun  held  his  wonted  place  in  a 
cloudless  sky,  but  over  his  radiant  face  lay  a  black 
disc,  leaving  only  a  bright  rim  upon  one  edge. 

"  It  is  an  eclipse,  comrades,"  I  called,  in  my  loud- 
est tones,  "  an  eclipse  of  the  sun.  I  take  it  for  a 
good  sign  —  symbol  of  what  we  shall  do  for  auto- 
cratic power  upon  this  continent,  only  that  will  be  a 
lasting,  as  well  as  a  total,  eclipse." 

My  words  had  magic  effect  upon  the  men  in  our 
boat,  and  in  the  two  others  near  enough  to  hear  my 
words.  Clark  must  have  said  something  similar  to 
those  in  his,  and  adjacent  boats,  for  I  saw  him  spring 
to  his  feet,  pointing  to  the  sun,  and  simultaneously 
with  our  shouts  of  "  Eclipse,  eclipse !  good  sign,  good 


176  DONALD  McELROY 

omen!  Thus  we'll  blot  out  the  forts  in  the  north- 
west," came  like  cries  from  the  other  boats,  and  an- 
swering cheers  from  the  bank.  So  the  ominous  por- 
tent, as  it  seemed  at  first,  was  changed  into  a  symbol 
of  encouragement. 

Often  since,  I  have  thought  of  this  incident,  which 
seems  to  illustrate  the  way  life  should  be  met.  Al- 
low ourselves  to  be  discouraged  by  apparent  auguries 
of  failure,  and  we  will  turn  our  backs  upon  success, 
when  our  feet  are  already  pressing  its  threshold;  yet 
such  signs  read  by  the  light  of  a  steadfast  purpose, 
and  a  courageous  heart,  may  become  but  prophecies 
of  victory,  and  encouragement  to  more  strenuous 
effort. 

Our  journey  down  the  river  was  as  rapid  and  un- 
eventful as  the  most  hopeful  of  us  could  have  asked; 
we  reached  the  mouth  of  the  Tennessee  without  a 
single  adventure  worth  recording.  On  the  way, 
however,  Colonel  Clark  had  learned  a  most  cheering 
piece  of  news,  and  one  momentous  to  our  undertak- 
ing. The  rumored  French  alliance  was  made  pub- 
lic, and  France  had  promised  liberal  and  immediate 
aid  of  men,  money,  and  a  fleet.  That  night  when 
we  had  disembarked  at  the  mouth  of  the  Tennessee, 
after  we  had  tied  up  the  boats,  and  killed  and  cooked 
our  suppers,  Clark  assembled  the  men,  and  an- 
nounced the  joyous  intelligence  he  had  received, 
pointing  out  all  the  fortunate  consequences  to  our 
expedition  to  be  expected  from  the  French  alliance. 
This  was  all  that  was  needed  to  give  the  men  assur- 
ance of  success,  and  to  make  them  ready  to  brave 
everything. 

Next  morning  we  shouldered  all  the  ammunition 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  177 

we  could  march  under,  and  set  out  for  Kaskaskia. 
We  were  still  following  the  river,  when,  an  hour 
after  starting,  we  hailed  a  boat  load  of  hunters. 
They  proved  to  be  Americans  —  a  new  appellation 
among  us  —  but  eight  days  out  from  Kaskaskia,  and 
after  a  conversation  between  them  and  Colonel 
Clark,  one  of  them,  a  certain  John  Saunders,  con- 
sented to  act  as  our  guide  through  the  Illinois  coun- 
try, with  which  he  professed  to  be  perfectly  familiar. 
This  solved  our  one  difficulty,  for  until  now  we  had 
lacked  a  guide.  With  light  hearts  we  resumed  our 
tramp  across  prairie,  marsh,  and  forest,  seeing  vic- 
tory within  our  grasp  —  renown  and  wealth  as  the 
individual  reward  of  each,  and  for  our  country  ex- 
tended dominion,  and  added  glory. 

Good  luck  continued  to  attend  us,  while  six  more 
days  passed.  We  had  fine  weather  and  made  good 
progress,  considering  the  unbroken  wilderness 
through  which  our  route  lay.  Time  was  most  pre- 
cious, for  everything  depended  upon  our  reaching 
Kaskaskia  before  any  rumors  of  our  approach  should 
get  to  the  ears  of  the  commandant.  Signs  of  lurk- 
ing Indians,  pointed  out  from  time  to  time  by  Givens 
and  Saunders,  made  the  least  enthusiastic  among  the 
men  eager  to  hurry  on;  but  these  filled  Thomas  and 
me  with  impatience,  because  even  Givens  discour- 
aged our  wish  to  seek  out  their  camps,  and  to  ques- 
tion them  in  regard  to  Ellen.  It  would  be  fool- 
hardiness,  declared  Givens,  and  result  only  in  our 
being  ambushed  —  he'd  find  "  the  gal  "  fast  enough 
for  us  when  once  we  were  safe  behind  the  walls  of 
a  fort,  and  could  kill  the  "  redskin  devils  "  at  our 
leisure. 


178  DONALD  McELROY 

On  the  eighth  morning,  Saunders  spread  conster- 
nation among  us  by  the  announcement  that  he  was 
lost  —  that  he  did  not  know  where  we  were,  nor 
could  he  recognize  a  single  landmark.  The  night 
before  we  had  seen  the  smoke  from  a  distant  camp 
fire,  which  Saunders  said  he  doubted  not  was  that 
of  some  roving  Miamis  or  Kickapoos.  This  fact 
made  our  predicament  the  more  serious.  At  once 
a  halt  was  called,  and  Clark  sternly  declared  to  the 
confused  Saunders  —  who  was  half  suspected  of 
treachery  by  us  all  —  that  unless  he  quickly  found 
the  way,  he  might  prepare  for  instant  death.  It 
was  not  possible,  Givens  declared,  in  his  slow,  em- 
phatic dialect,  for  a  scout  and  woodsman  to  lose  his 
way  in  a  country  he  had  once  traveled  over,  and 
Saunders  had  either  lied  to  us  in  the  first  place,  or 
was  laying  a  trap  for  us  now;  therefore  all  were 
ready  to  back  Colonel  Clark  in  his  evident  resolve 
to  make  short  work  of  the  suspected  traitor,  unless 
he  speedily  found  himself.  Saunders  saw  that  his 
doom  was  sealed  if  he  could  not  quickly  regain  his 
bearings,  and  went  to  work  desperately,  closely  at- 
tended by  two  guards,  retracing  our  way  for  some 
distance,  examining  sky,  stream  and  trees,  then  climb- 
ing to  the  tops  of  the  tallest  to  overlook  the  land- 
scape. 

The  men  sat  about  smoking  dejectedly,  or  mutter- 
ing their  suspicions  to  each  other.  Meantime  I  grew 
restless,  and  the  sight  of  the  anxious  face  of  Saun- 
ders, and  the  stern  face  of  Clark,  oppressed  me.  So 
I  picked  up  my  rifle,  and  plunged  into  the  forest 
which  fringed  the  higher  ground  stretching  eastward. 
A  small  stream  flowing  out  of  the  woods  promised 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  179 

either  spring  or  pond,  and  possibly  rare  game,  within. 
As  I  started  I  called  to  Givens  asking  him  to  sound 
his  turkey  yelper  should  they  resume  the  march  be- 
fore my  return. 

The  shade  and  freshness  of  the  woods  was  most 
grateful  and  the  tangle  of  well  laden  blackberry 
bushes  in  a  more  open  space  beguiled  me  to  stop 
and  pluck  some  of  the  fruit.  The  spring  found,  I 
looked  about  for  signs  of  game,  but  seeing  none, 
propped  my  rifle  against  a  tree,  laid  flat  down  upon 
my  chest,  and  buried  my  face  in  the  limpid  sweet- 
ness of  the  pure,  cool  water.  I  drank  till  satisfied, 
then  fell  to  dreaming.  The  same  scenes  under  dif- 
ferent aspects  came  to  me  always  in  my  day  visions, 
or  night  dreams  —  pictures  of  home,  recollections 
of  my  childhood,  and  occasionally  some  scenes  from 
those  few  weeks  of  dissipation  in  Philadelphia,  with 
Nelly's  witching  face,  swimming  amidst  my  mem- 
ories. But  I  liked  the  home  scenes  best,  and  next 
to  seeing  them  in  the  flesh,  was  the  happiness  of 
closing  my  eyes,  and  conjuring  up  visions  of  my 
mother,  of  Jean,  and  of  Ellen. 

What  a  glad  day  it  would  be  when,  Ellen  having 
been  found,  and  our  country's  independence  won, 
Thomas  and  I  could  go  home  and  settle  down  to 
peace  and  happiness ! 

Peace  and  happiness!  Would  it  be  ours  after 
all,  so  long  as  Aunt  Martha  set  herself,  in  her  nar- 
row bigotry,  to  persecute  Ellen?  so  long  as  there 
was  estrangement  between  husband  and  wife,  mother 
and  son  in  my  uncle's  family?  So  tenderhearted 
was  my  mother,  so  loyal  to  her  sister,  that  even  we 
could  not  be  a  happy  family  while  there  was  dis- 


i8o  DONALD  McELROY 

cord  and  unhappiness  in  Aunt  Martha's  —  for 
mother  was  our  happiness  barometer,  and  the  family 
atmosphere  went  up  or  down  with  her  feelings.  But 
mother  should  adopt  Ellen,  and  we  would  make  her 
happy,  and  Aunt  Martha  ashamed  of  her  harshness 
and  the  narrowness  of  her  religion. 

Then  and  there  I  vowed  a  new  crusade.  I  must 
be  a  soldier  always,  fighting  upon  one  arena  or  an- 
other for  some  principle  of  human  liberty  —  for 
the  love  of  liberty  and  a  fervent  zeal  for  it  had,  from 
long  meditation  and  some  sacrifices  in  its  cause,  got- 
ten into  my  blood,  and  become  a  part  of  my  nature. 
When  this  war  against  autocratic  rule  should  be 
ended  I  would  take  my  stand  by  Mr.  Jefferson,  and 
give  all  my  time  and  energies  to  the  brave  fight  he 
was  making  for  entire  and  universal  religious  lib- 
erty. Deeper  and  deeper  had  I  plunged  into  the 
trackless  wilderness  of  my  own  thoughts,  till  I  was 
lost  to  consciousness  of  the  place,  the  hour  and  my- 
self. 

Perhaps  I  had  been  dimly  conscious  of  some  slight 
movement  in  the  bushes  behind  me  —  afterward  I 
remembered  being  subtly  disturbed  by  it,  and  of  lift- 
ing my  head  to  listen  —  but  the  first  sounds  that 
really  aroused  me  were  the  short  explosion  of  a  rifle, 
followed,  almost  instantly,  by  the  whistle  of  a  bullet 
cutting  its  way  through  the  still  air,  and  then,  scarcely 
a  second  later,  a  wild  weird  whoop,  close  beside  me, 
which  caused  me  to  spring  to  my  feet,  and  turned 
me  in  its  direction,  as  if  I  had  been  an  automaton. 
There,  beside  the  tree,  against  which  I  had  leaned, 
was  stretched  the  quivering  body  of  a  dying  Indian. 
One  hand  still  grasped  a  tomahawk,  while  the  other 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  181 

clutched  frantically  at  the  leaves  and  grasses.  A 
last  quiver  and  he  was  still,  his  set  eyes  staring  into 
the  branches,  rustling  softly  above  him. 

It  was  all  a  mystery  to  me.  Where  had  the  In- 
dian come  from?  Who  had  shot  him?  I  stood  an 
instant  gazing  down  upon  the  still  savage  in  dumb- 
founded amazement,  then  took  my  rifle  and  started 
back  to  the  men  in  search  of  an  explanation  of  it 
all.  Presently  I  overtook  Givens'  foster  son,  who 
was  hurrying  forward  as  fast  as  he  could.  I  caught 
up  with  him,  halted  him,  and  asked  if  he  had  shot 
the  Indian.  He  did  not  answer,  and  only  pulled 
his  cap  farther  over  his  eyes.  I  took  his  rifle,  and 
looked  into  the  bore  of  it;  it  was  warm,  empty,  and 
smelled  strongly  of  powder. 

"  Givens,"  I  said  planting  myself  before  him,  and 
holding  out  my  hand,  "  you  have  just  saved  my  life, 
doubtless.  Won't  you  let  me  thank  you  ?  " 

The  beardless  lips  of  the  lad,  about  all  I  could  see 
of  his  face  under  his  wide  brimmed  cap,  curved  into 
a  half  smile,  and  he  said,  in  muffled  voice,  his  head 
still  on  his  chest: 

"  The  savage  had  just  poised  his  tomahawk  for  a 
blow  when  I  saw  him." 

44  You  acted  most  promptly,"  I  answered;  44  he 
might  have  brought  a  whole  tribe  down  upon  us,  so 
that  you  have  perhaps  saved  the  entire  band,  as  well 
as  Donald  McElroy."  I  continued  to  talk,  to  praise 
his  coolness,  readiness,  and  marksmanship,  and  to 
repeat  my  thanks,  but  I  got  no  more  out  of  the  lad 
and  it  was  so  evident  that  I  embarrassed  and  an- 
noyed him  that  presently  I  walked  on  and  left  him 
to  follow.  He  seemed  affected  with  a  painful  shy- 


1 82  DONALD  MCELROY 

ness,  and  apparently  preferred  solitude  to  the  most 
flattering  society. 

No  immediate  opportunity  was  given  me  to  tell 
Givens  of  his  boy's  kindly  deed,  for,  just  as  I  joined 
him  and  Colonel  Clark,  talking  earnestly  together, 
Saunders,  still  attended  by  his  guards,  came  running 
toward  us,  waving  his  arms,  and  shouting  joyously. 
He  had  found  a  landmark,  and  knew  our  locality! 
We  were  but  a  day's  march  from  Kaskaskia,  and  the 
way  was  safe  and  openl 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"  Comrades,"  said  Clark  the  next  morning,  just  as 
we  were  falling  into  line  of  march,  "  have  you  re- 
membered the  day?  It  is  the  fourth  of  July,  my 
men  —  the  anniversary  of  our  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, the  birthday  of  our  liberties  —  day  pro- 
pitious in  the  history  of  the  United  States  of  Amer- 
ica !  Our  guide  tells  me  that  we  are  but  six  leagues 
from  Kaskaskia,  and  I  have  already  planned  our 
attack.  Bloodless  victory  awaits  us  —  for  I  can 
rely  on  each  man  of  you  to  do  only  and  all  that  is 
expected  of  him.  We  will  march  within  half  a  mile 
of  the  fort  this  morning,  conceal  ourselves  in  the 
woods'  until  dark,  and,  then,  dividing  into  two  com- 
panies, we  will  rush  into  the  town  from  opposite 
ends,  shouting  and  brandishing  our  knives. 

"  I  am  told  that  the  minds  of  the  French  in  this 
region  have  been  filled  with  terror  of  the  bordermen 
by  horrid  tales  of  our  ruthless  cruelty;  we  may  as 
well  take  advantage  of  this  impression  to  overawe 
them.  Perhaps  we  may  prevent  bloodshed  by  pro- 
ducing astonishment  and  terror  in  the  breasts  of  the 
garrison  and  citizens.  We  have  no  quarrel  with 
the  French,  but  are  concerned  rather  with  winning 
them  peaceably  to  our  side.  After  a  night  of  fear 
— -but  you  must  remember,  men,  that  we  wish  to 
arouse  apprehension  alone,  and  that  a  single  deed 
of  violence  or  rapine  may  ruin  all  —  the  reaction 


i84  DONALD  MCELROY 

will  be  the  greater,  and  our  liberal  terms  of  amnesty 
the  more  gratefully  accepted.  As  we  lie  in  ambush 
this  afternoon,  you  will  preserve  the  strictest  silence, 
and  not  a  man  must  venture  out  of  hiding  till  the 
command  to  advance  be  given.  Carry  out  this  plan 
successfully,  and  Kaskaskia  is  ours  to-morrow,  and 
Virginia's  forever !  " 

Cheers  rent  the  air,  and  the  more  enthusiastic 
waved  their  caps  over  their  heads,  and  shook  each 
other's  hands,  as  if  victory  were  already  ours. 

The  town  lay  dark  and  silent  under  the  stars,  as 
our  two  bands  circled  it,  and  simultaneously  marched 
down  the  principal  street  from  opposite  directions, 
yelling,  and  brandishing  our  unsheathed  hunting 
knives,  as  demon-wise  as  the  worst  of  savages. 

"  The  Long  -  Knives !  The  Long  -  Knives !  " 
shouted  the  people  upon  the  streets,  running  from 
house  to  house  to  spread  the  alarm,  while  women 
and  children  screamed,  doors  were  slammed  and 
barred  within,  and  lights  extinguished  everywhere. 
Gradually  the  pandemonium  of  shrieks,  shouts,  and 
screams  subsided  into  a  hush  of  fearful  expectation, 
during  which  Givens  and  Saunders,  each  of  whom 
could  speak  a  little  French,  marched  captured  citi- 
zens from  door  to  door,  before  which  they  required 
them  to  announce  in  loud  tones  that  the  general  in 
command  of  the  Long-Knives  had  decreed  that  all 
citizens  of  Kaskaskia  who  should  remain  quietly 
within  their  houses  would  be  unmolested,  but  that  all 
who  ventured  out  would  be  summarily  dealt  with. 

M.  Rocheblave,  the  commandant,  was  surprised 
in  his  bed-chamber,  and  taken  prisoner.  His  wife, 
a  pretty,  voluble  Frenchwoman,  went  into  hysterics, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  185 

and  begged  piteously  for  their  lives  in  broken  Eng- 
lish, much  mixed  with  French  words,  and  interpreted 
with  expressive  gestures.  Colonel  Clark  assured 
her,  as  best  he  could,  that  no  harm  would  be  done 
them,  and  then  bade  me  search  the  apartment  for 
papers  while  he  stood  guard  in  the  doorway. 
Meantime  the  Commandant  and  Madame  looked 
on,  the  latter  regaining  her  composure,  and  seating 
herself  on  a  small  trunk,  from  which  she  watched 
my  proceedings  with  smiling  scorn.  I  searched 
everywhere,  upsetting  furniture,  and  even  ripping 
open  the  feather  beds,  but  few  papers  were  found, 
and  they  of  slight  importance.  The  trunk  which 
Madame  seemed  to  be  guarding  was,  evidently,  the 
receptacle  for  the  more  important  documents. 

"  Madame,"  I  said,  approaching  her,  and  taking 
her  gently  by  the  arm,  "  I  must  search  this  trunk 
also." 

But  she  held  her  place  firmly,  and,  in  better  Eng- 
lish than  she  had  yet  spoken,  heaped  reproaches 
upon  me,  saying  that  "  no  man  worthy  of  the  name 
would  invade  the  privacy  of  a  woman's  personal  be- 
longings." Then  she  began  to  weep  and  to  wail, 
and  to  entreat  Clark  piteously. 

"Let  her  alone,  McElroy,"  said  Clark,  at  last; 
"  we  cannot  use  violence  to  a  woman,"  so  we 
marched  off  with  our  prisoner,  the  Commandant,  and 
left  the  little  Frenchwoman  to  destroy  his  papers  at 
her  leisure. 

"  I  tell  you,  McElroy,"  said  Clark,  "  I'd  rather 
face  a  battalion,  or  storm  a  battery,  than  to  en- 
counter another  hysterical  Frenchwoman." 

During  the  night  we  took  possession  of  the  un- 


1 86  DONALD  McELROY 

garrisoned  fort  —  a  disused  warehouse,  which  had 
served  as  fort  since  the  burning  of  the  old  one  — 
and  Colonel  Clark  issued  strict  commands  that  only 
the  officers  and  such  soldiers  as  he  should  detail  to 
guard  the  town  from  time  to  time,  must  leave  the 
fort  until  further  orders.  By  this  ruse  the  citizens 
were  deceived  for  weeks  as  to  our  real  strength, 
their  imagination  readily  using  such  adroit  hints  as 
Colonel  Clark  threw  out  to  magnify  our  force  into 
a  strong  army  of  invasion,  and  the  squad  left  at 
Corn  Island,  into  large  reinforcements,  expected  in 
a  few  days. 

All  night  guards  patrolled  the  streets.  The  in- 
habitants, however,  obeyed  orders  strictly,  and  did 
not  venture  forth  next  morning  until  permission  was 
given  them,  with  the  information  that  the  fort  and 
the  town  were  in  our  possession,  and  M.  Rocheblave 
a  prisoner. 

Their  distressed  faces  presented  a  strong  contrast 
to  the  cheerful  scene  which  greeted  our  eyes  with  the 
beaming  sunlight  of  the  morning.  Kaskaskia,  situ- 
ated on  the  right  bank  of  the  Kaskaskia  or  the  Okan 
River,  six  miles  above  its  confluence  with  the  Missis- 
sippi, was  then  a  village  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
houses,  situated  on  a  beautiful  and  rolling  peninsula. 
The  velvet  verdure  of  the  plain,  dotted  with  little 
groves  of  pecan,  maple,  ash,  and  button-wood,  the 
glassy  surface  of  the  idle  river,  the  lofty  hill  oppo- 
site, with  its  stately  forest,  the  air  scented  with  the 
fragrance  of  its  wild  flowers,  the  little  springs  gush- 
ing from  its  sides  in  sparkling  beauty,  all  reposing  in 
the  lap  of  nature,  with  their  virgin  freshness  yet 
upon  them  —  there  was  a  landscape  to  charm  her 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  187 

most  capricious  lover.  We  gazed  enchanted  on  the 
fair  picture  and  felt  that  we  had  reached  a  Canaan, 
rich  reward  for  all  we  had  dared  and  endured. 

Presently  came  the  priest  to  Colonel  Clark,  asking 
that  the  people  be  allowed  to  assemble  once  more  in 
the  church  to  say  to  each  other  a  last  farewell  before 
leaving  their  homes,  and  separating  forever. 
"  Theirs,"  he  said,  "  was  the  fortune  of  war,  and 
they  made  no  murmur  —  since  an  all  wise  God  had 
willed  it  so.  Nor  could  they  complain  of  their  con- 
querors, who  so  far  had  treated  them  with  unex- 
ampled consideration.  They  had  but  one  other 
favor  to  ask  —  that  the  men  might  not  be  separated 
from  their  wives  and  their  little  ones." 

Doubtless  all  the  night  through  the  woeful  fate 
of  the  hapless  Acadians  had  been  present  to  the 
anxious  minds  of  the  people,  who  were  expecting  for 
themselves,  as  the  best  to  be  hoped,  a  similar  fate. 

When  the  priest's  words  had  been  translated  to 
Colonel  Clark  by  Saunders,  he  answered  with  a  win- 
ning smile,  and  a  convincing  air  of  friendliness: 

"  Monsieur  Gibault,  we  have  nothing  whatever 
against  your  religion,  nor  against  the  citizens  of  Kas- 
kaskia.  Assemble  your  people  in  church  when  and 
for  what  purpose  you  will;  worship  God  freely,  as 
your  consciences  dictate.  It  is  to  win  freedom  of 
belief  and  personal  liberty  for  all  the  inhabitants  of 
this  broad  continent  we  have  taken  up  our  arms. 
But  we  came  not  to  fight  against  the  French;  our 
quarrel  is  against  King  George  of  England.  And 
why  should  the  citizens  of  Kaskaskia,  for  the  sake 
of  being  loyal  to  a  power  which  has  but  lately  sub- 
dued them,  desert  their  comfortable  homes,  and 


1 88  DONALD  McELROY 

wander  forth  again  into  the  wilderness?  Why 
should  they  not  make  peace,  and  live  in  harmony 
with  the  allies  of  their  father  land?  Have  they  not 
heard  the  great  news  —  that  France  and  America 
have  formed  a  close  alliance  —  that  a  French  fleet 
and  a  French  army  are  on  their  way  to  help  us  fight 
the  armies  who  have  invaded  us  because  we  would 
not  submit  to  tyranny  and  injustice?  Does  not  this 
alliance  absolve  the  citizens  of  Kaskaskia  from  all 
allegiance  to  England?  Is  not  blood  thicker  than 
treaties  forced  upon  a  people  at  the  point  of  the 
sword? 

"  No!  M.  Gibault,  there  is  no  necessity  for  your 
flock  to  bid  each  other  farewell,  and  scatter  into  the 
wilderness  to  fall  prey  to  wild  beast  and  cruel  sav- 
age! Remain  peacefully  in  your  homes!  swear  al- 
legiance to  Virginia  1  conclude  with  us  the  same  alli- 
ance that  France  has  lately  entered  into  with  the 
United  States  of  America,  and  not  a  drop  of  blood 
need  be  shed,  not  a  man,  woman,  or  child  need  leave 
his  home,  nor  resign  either  his  religion,  nor  a  franc's 
worth  of  his  lawful  property!  We  will  pledge  our- 
selves to  secure  your  safety,  and  to  maintain  you  in 
the  enjoyment  of  all  the  rights  and  privileges  of 
American  citizens!  " 

The  gentle  face  of  the  priest  passed  from  distress- 
ful entreaty,  through  all  the  varying  expressions  of 
surprise,  doubt,  conviction,  relief,  and  rapture,  as 
Colonel  Clark's  speech,  phrase  by  phrase,  was  inter- 
preted to  him.  He  poured  out  fervid  and  voluble 
thanks,  called  down  Heaven's  blessing  upon  such 
merciful  conquerors,  and  repaired  quickly  to  the 
church  to  spread  the  glad  news  among  his  flock. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  189 

Never  have  I  witnessed  a  more  affecting  scene 
than  the  one  which  followed.  The  child-like  Kas- 
kaskians  passed  in  an  instant  from  despair  to  joy, 
from  fear  and  horror  of  us,  to  enthusiastic  admira- 
tion and  affection.  We  were  their  allies,  their 
brothers,  not  only  would  they  share  all  they  had  with 
us,  but  they  would  assist  us  against  our  common 
enemy. 

An  hour  later,  when  the  first  outburst  of  joy  had 
somewhat  subsided,  Father  Gibault  called  his  flock 
to  assemble  again  in  the  church,  that  they  might 
offer  to  God  a  solemn  thanksgiving  for  this  great 
deliverance.  Colonel  Clark  and  I,  with  two  others 
of  the  officers,  attended  this  service  and  gave  respect- 
ful attention.  In  a  far  corner  of  the  dim  little 
chapel  I  recognized  the  slim  form  of  young  Givens 
bowed  in  worship.  Again  I  fell  to  puzzling  over 
the  lad- — some  mystery  attended,  evidently,  his 
presence  among  us.  Could  he  be  a  Catholic?  yet 
Catholics  were  as  rare  as  Jews  in  our  part  of  the 
State;  Ellen  had  been  the  single  one  in  our  county 
as  far  as  I  knew.  There  was  no  solving  the  mys- 
tery, unless  Givens  chose  to  disclose  what  he  knew, 
and  that  he  was  little  likely  to  do,  without  good 
reason.  Well,  mysteries  were  not  rare  in  the  New 
World,  and  we  were  little  accustomed  to  concern 
ourselves  about  them  beyond  idle  speculation. 

When  the  religious  ceremonies  were  over,  Father 
Gibault  announced  that  the  rest  of  the  day  would  be 
celebrated  as  a  fete  day,  and  asked  that  the  panins, 
or  slaves,  should  be  given  holiday.  Festoons  of 
flowers  were  quickly  woven,  and  hung  from  house  to 
house;  maidens  and  youths  danced  upon  the  green; 


1 90  DONALD  McELROY 

flutes,  violins,  fife,  and  drum  filled  the  air  with  music; 
and  later  a  supper  of  pan  cakes  and  maple  syrup 
was  served  to  all  by  soft-voiced,  bright-eyed  French- 
women. Dancing,  feasting  and  rejoicing  were  kept 
up  in  many  of  the  houses  until  midnight.  Intoxicat- 
ing drinks  had  flowed  so  freely,  meantime,  that  there 
was  much  disorder  on  the  streets,  and  several  fights 
among  the  panins,  who  mingled  with  their  masters 
in  a  familiar  manner,  strange  to  us.  To  their 
brawls,  however,  we  paid  no  attention,  since  only 
friendly  demonstrations  were  made  us,  and  no  one 
ventured  near  the  fort,  in  which  the  men  were  kept 
with  some  difficulty. 

To  Colonel  Bowman's  company  fell  the  lot  of 
marching  up  the  river  to  take  possession  of  the  town 
and  fort  of  Cahokia.  Several  of  the  citizens  of 
Kaskaskia  had  volunteered  to  go  with  us,  and,  enter- 
ing the  town  before  us,  easily  persuaded  the  inhabit- 
ants to  transfer  their  allegiance  from  Great  Britain 
to  Virginia.  As  in  Kaskaskia,  the  news  of  the 
French  alliance  was  all  that  was  needed  to  incline  to 
a  bloodless  surrender. 

Chosen  by  Captain  Bowman  to  carry  the  news  of 
our  easy  success  to  Colonel  Clark,  and  ask  for  fur- 
ther instructions,  I  was  again  in  Kaskaskia  within 
the  week.  My  interview  over  with  Colonel  Clark 
—  who  took  my  news  with  rather  disappointing 
calmness  —  I  found  Givens  waiting  for  me,  his  anx- 
ious face  and  air  of  mystery  giving  me  a  sharp  sur- 
prise. He  led  me  aside,  and  asked  abruptly, 

"  You  hed  er  cousin  by  ther  name  uv  Ellen 
O'Niel?" 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  still  more  surprised. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  191 

"  She's  yander  in  the  fort,  en  lyin'  low.  What'll 
we  do  erbout  et?  " 

"  Here,  in  Kaskaskia?     It  is  not  to  be  believed." 

"  All  ther  same,  Capt'n,  et's  so.  John  Givens  es 
Ellen  O'Niel,  dressed  en  boy's  clothes.  Howsom- 
ever  she's  down  with  ther  swamp  fever  now,  en  must 
hev  woman's  nussin'  en'  priest's  docterin'  es  soon  es 
it's  ter  be  got  fur  'er.  It's  yer  es  must  tell  Colonel 
Clark,  en'  have  'er  moved  frum  ther  fort  at  onct." 

"  How  came  she  with  you,  Givens?  And  why 
did  you  let  her  come  all  this  way  from  her  friends  — 
and  dressed,  too,  in  men's  clothes?  "  I  questioned 
angrily. 

'  'Tain't  no  time  fur  explanations  now,  Capt'n. 
Ther  gal  needs  tendin'  ter,  right  away,"  and  he 
stalked  on  in  front  of  me  with  imperturbable  man- 
ner, but  anxious  countenance. 

It  took  few  words  to  explain  so  much  as  was 
necessary  to  Colonel  Clark,  and  not  many  more  to 
enlist  the  sympathies  of  Madame  Rocheblave.  We 
soon  had  the  poor  child, —  yet  in  her  rifleman's  garb, 
but  too  far  gone  in  the  stupor  of  her  disease  to  know 
anything  —  removed  to  the  Commandant's  house, 
and  left  her  in  the  care  of  Madame,  and  a  fresh 
faced  girl  whom  Madame  called  Angelique,  and 
recommended  as  an  excellent  nurse.  Then  we  went 
to  see  Dr.  Lafonte,  the  village  doctor,  and  Father 
Gibault,  who  was  reputed  to  be  skilled  in  herbs  and 
roots,  and  especially  successful  in  treating  fevers. 

When  both  had  come,  while  we  waited  for  their 
verdict,  Givens  sat  down  beside  me  on  the  steps  of 
the  house  and  told  me  the  following  story : 

u  Twuz  one  bitter  cold  en'  snowy  evenin',  las' 


192  DONALD  MCELROY 

winter,  as  I  wuz  out  on  ther  mountin',  huntin'.  I 
seed  a  dark  heap  'long  side  er  ther  parth,  en'  thort 
'twuz  er  wild  beast  uv  sum  descripshun.  When  I 
got  closter  I  heerd  er  human  moan,  en'  seed  it  wuz 
er  woman,  hurt,  en'  harf  froze.  I  toted  'er  home 
on  my  shoulder,  laid  'er  on  my  bed,  en'  rubbed  sum 
life  inter  'er.  Fur  days  she  did'n'  know  nothin'; 
then,  when  she  did  'pear  ter  notice  sum,  she  lay 
ther',  too  weak  ter  speak,  en'  lookin'  more  like  er 
ghost  than  like  er  woman.  When  she  could  talk 
she  'peared  not  ter  wan'  ter,  en'  specully  not  ter 
keer  ter  talk  erbout  herself.  I  didn't  ask  'er  no 
questions,  en'  one  day  I  tole  'er  I'd  call  'er  Mary  ef 
she'd  es  lieve  —  thet  having  been  ther  name  of  my 
own  leetle  gal,  es  ther  redskin  devils  killed,  en'  her 
eyes  somehow  remindin'  me  uv  ther  chile's.  She 
'greed  ter  thet,  en'  got  more  friendly. 

"  One  day  she  axed  me  if  I  could  give  her  some 
paper  en'  er  quill.  I  guv  'em  ter  'er,  made  'er  sum 
poke-berry  ink,  en'  she  writ'  er  letter;  thin  I  tramped 
ter  Charlottsville  ter  post  et  fur  er.  She  waited  en' 
waited,  en'  twisct  I  went  ter  town  ter  git  ther  answer, 
afore  it  cum.  When  et  did  cum,  et  sot  her  ter  cry- 
in',  en'  took  all  ther  red  out'n  her  cheeks  ergin  — 
fur  by  this  time  she  wuz  well  en'  strong,  doin'  all 
my  cookin'  en'  mendin',  and  makin'  cheerful  com- 
pany fur  me  evenin's.  She  said  'twuz  her  own  let- 
ter cum  back  frum  ther  postman,  who  had  writ  on 
et  thet  ther  people  et  wuz  sont  ter  didn't  live  in 
Baltimore  no  longer.  She  didn't  hev  no  whar,  now, 
ter  go,  she  said,  crying  pitiful.  She  could  stay  with 
me  es  long  es  she'd  er  mind  ter,  I  tole  her,  en'  I'd 
be  glad  to  hev  her  fur  my  own  chile  —  sence  the 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  193 

redskinned  devils  hedn't  left  me  none.  Thet  seemed 
ter  cumfort  her  some,  but  you  cum  er  few  days  arter 
thet,  en'  she  heerd  me  tell  yer  I'd  like  ter  go  with 
Clark.  You  wuz  no  sooner  gone  then  she  declared 
she  wuz  goin'  off  so  es  not  to  be  er  hinderunce  ter 
me,  nur  my  plans.  Ter  thet  I  wouldn't  ergree  no- 
how, spechully  arter  she  hed  tole  me  er  leetle  'bout 
how  she  happened  ter  be  on  ther  mountin  thet  evenin' 
—  though  she  never  did  tell  me  her  name,  nur  ther 
name  uv  her  kin  folks. 

"  We  talked  mos'  all  thet  night;  she  argified,  en' 
I  argified;  et  las  we  cum  ter  this  ergreement:  —  she 
wuz  ter  go  with  me  ter  Kaintucky  es  my  foster- 
son,  en'  we'd  settle  out  ther,  when  she'd  put  on  her 
gal  clothes  ergin,  en'  be  my  daughter  fur  good  en' 
all. 

"  I  went  ter  Charlottesville,  got  er  rifleman's  uni- 
form fur  'er,  en'  she  put  it  right  on  ter  practice 
wearin'  it,  en'  lookin'  natural  en  it.  Every  day  she 
went  huntin'  with  me  ter  practice  shootin',  en'  I  tuk 
ter  callin'  her  John.  By  ther  time  we  started,  'twas 
all  es  nat'ral  as  if  'twere  so,  en'  everything  went 
smooth  tel  you  en'  Mr.  Mitchell  come.  She  wuz 
skeered  fur  fear  you'd  fine  'er  out,  en'  staid  most  er 
the  time  at  the  settlement.  'Twuz  my  intention  to 
leave  er  ther,  even  ef  I  went  on  with  Clark,  but  she 
wuz  mad  fur  adventure  by  thet  time,  en'  would  cum' 
on.  The  reason  I  let  'er  wuz  becus'  uv  yer  two  bein' 
her  kin,  in  case  'twuz  needful  ter  mek  known  she  wuz 
er  woman.  Her  being  in  'tother  company  kept  you 
frum  seein'  'er  much,  en'  nights  I  allus  slept  nigh  'er 
es  you  know.  She's  been  awful  sick  now  fur  twenty- 
four  hours,  en'  both  uv  yer  gone.  Et's  been  er  ter- 


194  DONALD  McELROY 

rable  responserbility  frum  fust  ter  last  —  es  fatherly 
as  I  feel  ter  ther  poor  gal,"  and  Givens  mopped  the 
sweat  from  his  brow,  and  drew  a  long,  deep  sigh  of 
intense  relief. 

"  Will  she  recover?  "  I  asked  eagerly  of  Dr.  La- 
fonte,  who  just  then  opened  the  front  door  softly. 
To  translate  my  question  was  beyond  Givens'  strictly 
limited  French,  but  somehow  Dr.  Lafonte  under- 
stood, and  replied  in  his  own  tongue. 

I  gazed  at  him  hopelessly,  for  then  I  could  not  un- 
derstand a  single  word  of  the  French  language. 
Father  Gibault,  gliding  behind  the  little  doctor, 
smiled  at  my  bewilderment  and  translated  for  me 
with  many  shrugs  and  gestures. 

"  He  would  say,  Monsieur,  that  Mademoiselle  ees 
very  seek  —  boot  she  ees  young  and  strong,  eef  le 
bon  Dieu  ees  weeling  she  weel  make  recovery.  I, 
Monsieur,  have  plenty  Peruvian  bark,  et  ees  la 
grande  medicine;  Mademoiselle  weel  make  re- 
covery, I  theenk,  Monsieur,"  and  he  gave  me  a  be- 
nign and  reassuring  smile. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

As  soon  as  Colonel  Clark's  commands  were  de- 
livered to  Captain  Bowman  at  Cahokia,  I  obtained 
permission  for  Thomas  and  myself  to  return  to  Kas- 
kaskia,  that  we  might  await  there  the  issue  of  Ellen's 
illness.  We  took  turns  of  watching  upon  the  porch 
of  the  commandant's  house  to  be  in  readiness  for 
any  instant  service  it  was  in  our  power  to  render. 
Meantime  Madame  Rocheblave  and  Angelique 
nursed  Ellen  assiduously  and  tenderly,  and  her  physi- 
cians gave  her  faithful  attention.  This  was  my  first 
acquaintance  with  people  of  French  blood,  and  their 
unfailing  cheerfulness  and  sympathy  were  a  revela- 
tion to  me.  In  truth  the  French  Americans  of  the 
Northwest  were  the  most  simple  natured  and  warm 
hearted  race  I  have  ever  known  —  they  had  not, 
however,  the  hardier  qualities  of  my  own  people. 

For  seven  days  we  had  always  the  same  answer 
to  our  questions  given  by  the  little  doctor,  with 
cheery  air,  and  sympathetic  expression  — "  C'est  im- 
possible a  dire,  Monsieur,  il  faut  avoir  la  patience." 

Late  on  the  eighth  night,  Father  Gibault  came  to 
me,  his  gentle  face  beaming  with  pleasure,  to  an- 
nounce that  the  crisis  had  been  favorably  passed, 
and  that  with  no  relapse,  Ellen  would  soon  be  as 
strong  or  stronger  than  before. 

The  most  hazardous  part  of  our  enterprise  lay 
yet  before  us  —  the  taking  of  Vincennes,  the  real  key 


196  DONALD  McELROY 

to  the  Northwest,  without  which  we  could  not  long 
hold  our  position  at  Kaskaskia  and  Cahokia.  And 
every  day  the  English  commandant,  Abbott,  might 
return  from  Detroit  with  reinforcements  for  the 
fort,  which  was  far  stronger  and  better  equipped 
than  the  almost  abandoned  one  at  Kaskaskia. 
Moreover  we  could  not  hope  so  easily  to  overawe 
and  win  the  larger  and  more  mixed  population  of 
the  town  of  Vincennes,  which  had  fallen  more  di- 
rectly under  British  influence. 

Colonel  Clark  had  conceived  that  his  best  hope 
was  to  make  the  Kaskaskians  believe  his  riflemen  the 
most  formidable  of  warriors,  and  to  lead  them  to 
think  that  he  could  summon  from  our  recently  estab- 
lished forts  on  the  Ohio  any  number  of  reenforce- 
ments  he  might  need.  So  we  drilled  and  mustered 
the  men  and  made  pretense  of  sending  couriers  to 
our  forts,  till  the  Kaskaskians  imagined  us  to  be  but 
the  vanguard  of  an  army.  Their  fears  were  aroused 
for  friends  and  relatives  at  Vincennes,  and  Father 
Gibault  himself  offered  to  proceed  to  that  town  under 
an  escort  of  Colonel  Clark's  troops,  to  counsel  sub- 
mission and  alliance.  Clark  accepted  his  offer  with 
apparent  indifference,  but  secret  joy,  put  me  in  com- 
mand of  Father  Gibault's  escort,  and  bade  me  gather 
all  the  information  possible,  in  regard  to  the  condi- 
tion of  the  fort,  the  feeling  of  the  people  toward  the 
English,  and  everything  I  thought  might  be  useful  in 
case  we  should  have  to  storm  or  besiege  the  place. 

Still  our  amazing  good  luck  attended  us.  The 
logic  of  Father  Gibault,  and  the  natural  preference 
of  the  people  for  peace  —  which  made  a  change  of 
masters  a  matter  of  secondary  importance  —  proved 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  197 

irresistible.  The  citizens  assembled  willingly  in  the 
church,  swore  allegiance  to  Virginia,  elected  a  town 
officer  favorable  to  our  interests,  and  allowed  us  to 
garrison  the  fort,  and  raise  our  standards  over  it. 
Father  Gibault  carried  the  news  of  our  third  blood- 
less victory  back  to  Clark,  and  a  week  later  Captain 
Helm  arrived  to  take  command  of  the  garrison  of 
five  Americans,  and  about  a  score  of  French  recruits. 
Colonel  Clark  had  given  him  the  large  sounding 
title  of  "  Governor-General  of  Indian  affairs  on  the 
Wabash,"  and  had  charged  him  with  a  characteristic 
answer  to  Tabac  —  the  head  chief  of  the  Pianke- 
shaws,  who  had  visited  us  at  Vincennes,  and  arro- 
gantly commanded  us  to  convey  a  defiant  message  to 
the  chief  of  the  Long-Knives. 

"  Take  your  choice,"  was  Clark's  answer  —  by 
the  mouth  of  the  interpreter  Givens  — "  between  the 
British  and  the  Big-Knives.  Choose  peace  or  war 
with  the  Long  Knives  and  you  will  —  but  which- 
ever you  select,  remember  it  is  final  and  prepare  to 
stand  firmly  by  your  choice.  We  are  fighters  by 
trade,  we  object  not  to  war,  yet  we  have  no  present 
quarrel  with  the  red  men,  and  seek  none.  We  pre- 
fer to  save  our  strength  to  make  war  upon  the  Brit- 
ish king  " —  and  then  the  ground  of  our  quarrel  with 
Great  Britain  was  explained  as  well  as  Givens  was 
able  to  do  it  by  the  use  of  such  figures  of  speech 
as  the  Indians  could  understand. 

The  negotiations  lasted  several  days,  nor  could 
we  gather  from  the  stolid  faces  of  Tabac  and  his 
warriors  what  their  decision  would  be.  At  last  Ta- 
bac announced  that  he  had  made  up  his  mind, — 
then  sat  in  Sphinx-like  silence  for  half  an  hour, 


198  DONALD  McELROY 

smoking  solemnly  and  looking  straight  before  him 
into  the  dense  smoke  made  by  the  pine  knots,  burn- 
ing in  the  midst  of  our  circle.  His  warriors  did 
likewise.  Instructed  by  Givens,  we  showed  neither 
curiosity  nor  impatience,  but  remained  as  impassive 
as  they. 

Meantime,  partially  to  rest  my  eyes  from  the 
smoke  and  flame  of  the  pine  logs,  I  gazed  long  and 
curiously  at  Tabac.  How  crafty  and  subtle  the  ex- 
pression about  the  thin  close-lipped  mouth,  and  long 
half-shut  eyes!  How  savage  the  narrow  sloping 
forehead,  and  the  high  fleshless  cheek  bones,  smeared 
with  fantastic  daubs  of  paint,  and  surmounted  with 
suggestive  scalp  lock,  conspicuously  adorned  with 
gay  feathers  and  stiff  quills.  The  noble  red  man 
indeed!  I  have  no  patience  with  this  absurd  senti- 
ment of  admiration  and  pity  for  the  Indian  —  which 
seems  now  to  be  coming  into  fashion.  The  gener- 
ation of  pioneers,  and  frontiersmen  not  long  past, 
realize  as  others  never  can  the  inherent  savagery 
of  the  Indians.  Either  we  should  never  have  come 
to  America,  or  we  must  exterminate  the  savages. 
Indians  and  civilization  repel  each  other  like  the 
opposite  poles  of  a  magnet. 

When  Tabac  arose  deliberately  to  his  feet  at  last, 
his  eyes  roved  around  the  circle,  and  were  fixed 
upon  me  with  an  expression  of  defiance,  rather  than 
upon  Captain  Helm,  at  whose  left  I  sat,  showing 
that  he  had  felt,  and  resented  my  scrutiny. 

"  Warriors  of  the  Big-Knife,"  he  began  in  slow, 
measured  tones,  that  made  an  impression  of  rude 
eloquence,  though  we  understood  not  a  word  he 
said  until  Givens  had  translated  his  speech;  "  I  have 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  199 

reflected  long  —  have  taken  counsel  of  my  warriors, 
and  of  the  Great  Spirit  himself.  I  have  made  my 
choice.  I  have  reached  a  last  decision.  And  when 
Tabac,  chief  of  the  brave  and  noble  tribe  of  the 
Piankeshaws  decides,  it  is  the  end  —  there  is  no 
more  hesitation  with  him,  nor  with  his  people.  We 
are  friends  to  the  Big-Knife,  and  his  warriors.  We 
make  alliance  with  the  tribes  of  Virginia.  We, 
too,  are  Big-Knives,  we  stand  or  fall  with  our  pale 
face  brethren  from  the  rising  sun." 

Captain  Helm  made  gracious  answer  to  this  lan- 
guage, interspersed  with  much  flattery  of  Tabac 
and  his  tribe,  for  their  alliance  was,  really,  of  the 
greatest  importance  to  us,  and  our  apparent  indif- 
ference but  a  part  of  the  big  game  of  bluff  Clark 
was  playing.  Then  the  peace  pipe  was  passed 
around,  presents  interchanged,  and  after  bidding  our 
new  allies  an  elaborate  farewell,  we  returned  to 
the  fort. 

Just  before  he  had  sent  me  to  Vincennes,  Colonel 
Clark,  as  I  neglected  to  mention  at  the  proper  time, 
had  raised  me  to  my  old  rank  of  Captain,  and  given 
me  a  place  on  his  staff,  as  special  attache  to  himself 
—  as  the  moving  executive,  so  to  speak,  of  the  central 
authority.  Clark  remained  at  Kaskaskia,  where  one 
Indian  deputation  after  another  flocked  to  him  to 
make  treaties  of  peace  or  alliance,  while  I  moved 
up  the  river  to  Cahokia,  or  across  the  prairies  and 
marshes  to  Vincennes,  carrying  his  orders,  making 
reports,  and  gathering  information. 

Upon  my  return  to  Kaskaskia  after  my  first  trip 
to  Vincennes,  I  found  Ellen  more  than  convalescent. 
Her  vigorous  youth  had  quickly  vanquished  the  dis- 


200  DONALD  MCELROY 

ease  after  the  first  crisis  was  safely  passed,  and 
she  had  made  such  rapid  recovery  as  caused  Mad- 
ame Rocheblave  to  lift  her  hands,  elevate  her  eye- 
brows, and  exclaim  over  the  marvelous  physical 
powers  of  "  zeze  so  veery  strong  Ameerikans." 

I  found  Ellen  not  only  bright-eyed,  but  plump  and 
rosy,  as  she  had  never  been  before,  and  even  gay 
among  her  new  friends.  They  had  already  taken 
her  to  their  hearts,  partly,  I  suppose,  because  she 
was  so  devout  a  Catholic,  partly  because  they  had 
been  called  upon  to  befriend  and  care  for  her,  and 
partly  too,  as  any  one  must  recognize,  for  her  own 
charming  personality.  No  wonder  Thomas  had 
been  so  infatuated!  The  thin,  awkward,  shy  girl, 
I  remembered,  with  the  beautiful  blue  eyes,  set  in  a 
slim,  pale  face,  was  become  an  indescribable  com- 
pound of  girlish  roundness,  bloom,  and  sparkle,  of 
maidenly  softness  and  brightness.  Her  new  wom- 
an's clothes,  constructed  by  Angelique's  deft  fingers 
of  the  delicate  hued  soft  stuffs  of  the  place,  which 
were  woven  of  home  grown  flax,  or  of  buffalo  wool, 
and  dyed  with  native  roots,  hung  about  her  in  long, 
graceful  folds,  that  made  her  figure  look  statuesque 
in  its  poses  of  natural  grace.  But  even  more  than 
her  beauty,  her  manner  astonished  me  —  its  gracious- 
ness,  piquancy,  gayety,  and  ease.  Not  Nelly  Buford 
herself,  nor  Miss  Shippen,  reigned  with  more  charm- 
ing assurance  over  her  circle  of  admirers,  than  did 
Ellen  over  the  court  of  adorers  which  soon  gathered 
about  her. 

-  She  had  been  enrolled  as  "  John  Givens  "  in  Cap- 
tain Dillard's  company,  and  they  laid  now  special 
claim  to  her;  every  one  of  the  officers  making  him- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  201 

self  the  slave  of  her  caprices,  and  vying  one  with 
another  to  flatter  and  to  spoil  her.  Dr.  Lafonte 
and  young  Legere,  a  distant  kinsman  of  the  com- 
mandant, promptly  surrendered,  and,  presently, 
Colonel  Clark  enrolled  hknself  among  her  devoted 
admirers.  There  were  a  dozen  fresh  faced,  sweet 
voiced  French  girls  of  the  peasant  class  in  the  village, 
but  Ellen  alone  had  qualities  to  attract  men  like  Dil- 
lard,  Clark,  Thomas  and  me,  who  demanded  more 
than  rounded  outlines,  bright  eyes,  and  soft  skin. 

If  once  I  had  patronized  Ellen,  it  was  her  turn 
now,  and  she  queened  it  over  me  ruthlessly.  At  our 
very  first  interview  she  proved  her  power.  I  had 
sought  to  see  her  alone,  that  I  might  give  her  in 
plain  words  my  opinion  of  her  late  rashness,  and 
insist  that  in  future  she  take  no  step  without  con- 
sulting Thomas,  or  me,  in  lieu  of  closer  kinsman, 
with  better  right  to  advise  her.  It  seemed  my  duty 
to  do  this,  since  Thomas'  infatuation  made  him  dumb 
in  her  presence,  and  would  allow  him  to  recognize 
no  fault  in  her. 

After  keeping  me  waiting  a  good  fifteen  minutes, 
she  came,  trailing  a  pale  yellow  robe  behind  her, 
and  bearing  herself  like  a  princess. 

"  Is  this  really  Ellen  O'Niel?  "  I  asked,  involun- 
tarily, meeting  her  half  way  down  the  long  room, 
and  taking  both  her  hands  in  cousinly  greeting. 

"  None  other  than  the  forlorn  little  Irish  lass 
you  used  to  be  kind  to,"  and  she  flashed  upon  me  an 
irradiating  smile,  and  drew  her  hands  out  of  mine 
with  an  air  of  gentle  dignity  that  somehow  embar- 
rassed me.  "  But  you  did  not  know  me  in  rifle- 
men's uniform  —  my  heart  need  not  have  fluttered 


202  DONALD  MCELROY 

so  that  day  in  the  forest  when  you  planted  your- 
self before  me,  and  looked  me  straight  in  the  eye." 

"  It  makes  me  tremble  even  yet,  Ellen,"  I  an- 
swered, "  to  think  of  your  rash  conduct  during  the 
last  few  months." 

"  All  has  turned  out  beautifully,  Cousin  Donald, 
and  I  would  do  it  all  over  again,"  and  she  spoke 
gaily,  but  with  more  seriousness,  as  she  added: 
"Are  you  not  risking  all  for  freedom;  and  is  not 
liberty  as  dear  to  a  woman  as  to  a  man?  I  took  the 
risk  and  I  have  won.  Had  I  died  in  the  attempt 
'twould  have  been  better  than  the  life  of  slavery 
and  persecution.  Besides,  cousin,  though  your  nar- 
row Protestantism  may  find  it  hard  to  grant  such 
grace  to  Catholics,  we,  too,  have  faith  in  an  over- 
ruling Providence,  believe  in  a  power  that  can  pro- 
tect the  helpless,  and  guide  the  orphan.  I  rode  away 
from  my  Uncle  Thomas'  house  that  night,  unguarded 
by  man,  but  guided  by  the  holy  Christ  and  the  gentle 
Virgin," —  Ellen's  face  shone  with  uplifted  rapture 
as  she  spoke  thus  — "  By  them  I  have  been  brought 
in  safety  to  this  peaceful  village  of  kindly,  cheerful 
people,  to  the  care  of  holy  Father  Gibault,  kind  Ma- 
dame Rocheblave,  and  faithful  Angelique.  I  shall 
not  again  lack  friends  nor  suffer  persecution  for  my 
religion.  You  are  a  distant  kinsman,  'tis  true, 
Cousin  Donald,  and  I  hold  you  in  grateful  affection 
for  past  kindnesses  —  but  I  will  not  be  scolded  nor 
upbraided.  I  am  done  with  that,  for  always.  Nor 
have  I  any  apologies  to  make  to  any  one.  I  was 
driven  to  what  I  did  by  those  who  were  called  to 
give  me  a  home  and  affection.  I  repeat  I  would  do 
over  again  what  I  have  done.  If  you  wish  to  treat 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  203 

me  with  a  kinsman's  kindness  upon  these  terms  I 
shall  be  glad  —  otherwise  you  must  say  farewell, 
and  leave  me  to  my  new  found  friends." 

Never  was  I  so  completely  cowed  by  speech  from 
the  lips  of  any  one,  as  by  these  quiet  words  from 
Ellen,  as  she  sat  before  me  in  calm  dignity.  Scat- 
tered like  summer  smoke  was  my  intent  to  reprimand 
her  once  for  all,  and  set  before  her  the  suffering 
she  had  caused  us. 

"  Did  you  not  promise,  the  night  we  said  good 
night  at  the  spring,  to  be  my  friend  and  comrade 
always?"  I  answered,  "and  have  not  friends  and 
comrades  the  right  to  speak  the  truth  to  one  an- 
other? Once  for  all,  Ellen,  I  must  say  I  think  you 
acted  rashly,  and  beg  that  you  will  never  again  act 
upon  impulse  without  taking  counsel  of  Thomas  or 
me  who  are  your  loyal  kinsmen,  and  would  risk 
our  lives  for  you.  I  speak  not  to  disapprove,  but 
to  warn;  the  dangers,  the  risks  your  independent, 
confident  spirit  may  lead  you  into,  frighten  me. 
And,  Ellen,"  I  went  on  rapidly,  lest  I  should  never 
again  be  able  to  summon  up  the  needful  courage  to 
say  it  — "  you  must  not  include  Uncle  Thomas,  nor 
my  mother,  in  your  just  condemnation  of  Aunt  Mar- 
tha; both  are  sincerely  grieved,  and  Uncle  Thomas 
half  distracted  with  apprehension  and  remorse; 
neither  had  a  thought  that  you  were  so  very  un- 
happy." 

"  Uncle  Thomas  had  not  the  courage  to  take  my 
side,  nor  your  mother  to  offer  me  a  refuge  —  both 
preferred  family  peace,  and  their  own  comfort  to 
my  salvation;  they  left  no  other  course  open  to  me 
than  that  I  took.  Not  even  Cousin  Thomas,  though 


204  DONALD  McELROY 

he  wished  to  befriend  me,  had  the  bravery  to  make 
a  stand  on  my  side  against  his  mother;  he,  too,  was 
cowed  by  her  domineering  spirit  —  were  I  a  man, 
I  would  cringe  to  no  one,  not  even  to  the  woman 
that  I  love." 

That  last  sentence  I  remembered,  and  afterwards 
it  helped  me  to  hold  my  own  a  little  better  against 
Ellen's  growing  power  over  me. 

"  You  were  most  unkindly  treated,  Ellen,  and  it 
will  always  be  a  reproach  upon  us,  something  for 
which  we  must  all  hang  our  heads  in  shame, —  but 
will  you  not  try  to  forgive  them?  They  have  bit- 
terly atoned  for  the  wrong  they  did  you,  if  unhappi- 
ness,  and  self  reproach,  can  atone." 

"  Father  Gibault  says  I  must  freely  forgive  them 
ere  he  can  absolve  me  from  the  wrong  thoughts,  and 
actions  of  which  I  too  have  been  guilty,"  answered 
Ellen  —  that  catch  in  her  voice,  which  so  often  I 
had  recalled  to  mind,  and  had  never  heard  in  any 
other  woman's — "  but  I  find  no  consolation  in  their 
remorse.  In  you,  Cousin  Donald,  I  have  nothing 
to  forgive,  you  have  always  been  good  to  me.  I  am 
still  your  friend  and  comrade,  if  you  wish  —  though 
already  you  are  a  great  and  noble  man,  as  I  fore- 
saw you  would  be,"  and  again  she  gave  me  that 
flashing  smile  which  made  my  head  swim. 

"  And  you  will  go  home  with  Thomas  and  me 
when  this  business  is  ended?  " 

"  I  can  never  go  back  to  that  dreary,  solemn  val- 
ley, where  people  think  of  nothing  but  hard  work, 
and  long  doleful  prayers.  As  yet  I  have  heard  mass 
but  twice,  and  only  once  have  I  been  to  confession ; 
it  seemed  to  me  that  the  spirit  of  my  dead  parents 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  205 

were  with  me,  and  it  brought  me  such  joy  and  peace 
as  you  cannot  conceive.  I  can  never  be  separated 
again  from  the  exercise  of  my  religion.  In  truth  I 
have  a  solemn  and  holy  purpose  set  before  me,  of 
which  I  shall  tell  you,  some  day.  Meantime  let  us 
not  talk  upon  this  painful  subject,  Cousin  Donald, — 
life  is  so  good  to  me  now,  so  full  of  pure  joy,  and 
perfect  happiness  that  I  like  not  to  recall  the  past 
five  years." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

During  the  months  of  August  and  September, 
Clark  was  kept  busy  receiving  the  Indian  deputa- 
tions which  came  weekly  to  Kaskaskia  to  sue  for 
peace  and  alliance,  with  the  famed  Big-Knives  and 
his  warriors.  Each  visit  was  an  affair  of  state,  and 
must  be  received  with  due  ceremony.  Did  the  depu- 
tation consist  only  of  the  chief  of  some  petty  sub- 
tribe,  and  two  or  three  warriors,  they  must  have 
audience  at  the  fort  with  Colonel  Clark  himself,  sur- 
rounded by  an  armed  body-guard;  speeches,  pres- 
ents, and  wampum  belts  must  be  ceremoniously  ex- 
changed, and  the  peace  pipe  smoked  solemnly,  after 
which  Clark  must  tender  them  a  feast. 

Born  to  administer  large  affairs,  Colonel  Clark 
showed  in  his  pacification  of  the  Northwest  Indians, 
a  remarkable  shrewdness,  and  knowledge  of  human 
nature.  He  used  much  the  same  tactics  as  those 
found  so  successful  in  dealing  with  the  French :  — 
he  over-awed  them  by  dauntlessness  of  spirit,  and  a 
show  of  far  greater  strength  than  he  really  pos- 
sessed. When  the  desired  impression  had  been 
made  upon  them,  and  they  had  offered  alliance,  he 
would  adroitly  win  them  to  his  purposes  by  friend- 
liness and  flattery.  He  could  meet  them  with  a 
cpunter  stoicism  and  subtlety  that  confounded  them, 
and  sent  them  back  to  their  tribes  to  tell  marvelous 
stories  of  the  great  white  warrior  chief,  the  redoubt- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  207 

able  Big-Knife,  whose  course  of  conquest  had  started 
at  the  rising  sun,  and  would  be  stopped  only  by  the 
big  river  towards  the  sun's  lodge.  One  edict  of 
Colonel  Clark  well  serves  to  illustrate  his  far-seeing 
wisdom,  and  the  extent  of, his  power.  He  forbade 
any  soldier,  any  citizen  of  Kaskaskia,  or  trader  on 
the  river,  to  sell  or  to  give  a  single  gill  of  liquor  to 
an  Indian  within  so  many  miles  of  the  town  and  fort, 
under  heavy  penalties ;  and  the  few  infringements  of 
this  rule  were  severely  punished.  Ceremony,  pres- 
ents and  feasting  were  dealt  out  generously  to  the 
savages,  but  their  expectations  of  fire-water  were  in- 
variably disappointed.  Some  of  them  went  away 
sullen,  but  there  was  no  rioting  in  Kaskaskia,  and 
no  more  bloody  fights  such  as  had  been  customary 
between  panins  and  Indians. 

Between  these  and  other  duties,  Colonel  Clark 
found  some  leisure  for  diversion,  and  sought  it  usu- 
ally in  the  long  room  of  the  Commandant's  house, 
where  Ellen  held  her  court  with  a  constantly  in- 
creasing number  of  subjects.  Madame  Rocheblave 
had  left  Kaskaskia  soon  after  Ellen's  recovery,  to 
visit  friends  in  Detroit,  while  awaiting  the  release 
of  M.  Rocheblave,  who  had  been  sent  to  Virginia 
with  several  other  prisoners.  But  Angelique  had 
consented  to  accept  services  as  Ellen's  maid,  and  was 
in  constant  attendance  upon  her. 

Among  Ellen's  admirers  the  most  indefatigable 
and  determined  were  Monsieur  Legere,  Colonel 
Clark,  Thomas  and  I;  and  for  each  of  us  she  had 
a  special  course  of  treatment  that  kept  us  hovering 
between  hope  and  despair.  Monsieur  Legere's 
manner  of  attack  was  nightly  to  serenade  Ellen 


208  DONALD  McELROY 

with  voice  and  guitar,  and  daily  to  present  her  with 
passionate  love  poems,  hidden  in  bunches  of  gorge- 
ous wild  flowers,  which  he  had  gathered  at  risk  of 
limb  and  life  from  the  most  inaccessible  spurs  of 
the  bluff  across  the  river.  These  offerings  she  would 
receive  with  just  enough  appearance  of  pleasure,  and 
expression  of  appreciation  to  prevent  that  emotional 
youth  from  committing  suicide.  Thomas,  she 
treated  as  she  would  a  brother,  took  him  to  mass 
with  her,  and  alternately  commanded,  scolded,  and 
coaxed  him.  He  alone  failed  to  see  that  there  was 
naught  but  cousinly  regard,  and  a  degree  of  grati- 
tude and  pity  in  her  heart  for  him. 

Colonel  Clark  sued,  as  he  did  everything  else, 
masterfully.  It  was  plain,  too,  that  this  had  a  cer- 
tain effect  upon  Ellen,  who  moreover,  could  not  fail 
to  be  attracted  by  his  handsome  person  and  winning 
manners.  That  personal  charm  felt  so  strongly  by 
men,  even  by  savages  and  foreigners  must  produce  a 
more  sure  effect  upon  the  feelings  of  the  woman 
whom  he  condescended  to  woo.  Yet  Ellen  did  not 
acknowledge  his  power,  but  rather  took  pleasure  in 
making  him  yield  to  her.  There  was  almost  daily 
warfare  of  words  between  them.  She  would  be 
starting  to  vespers  with  Thomas  perhaps,  just  as 
Clark  would  be  mounting  the  porch  steps. 

"  You  are  not  going  this  afternoon,  Miss  Ellen," 
in  his  firm  tone  of  command;  "  I  want  you  to  stay 
and  talk  to  me." 

"  But  I  always  go  to  vespers,  Colonel  Clark." 

"  Except  when  I  come  to  see  you." 

"  No  matter  who  comes  to  see  me." 

"  You  need  make  exception  in  my  case  only ;  I 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  209 

have  many  duties,  and  can  not  choose  my  hours  of 
recreation;  you  can  say  your  prayers  all  day,  if  you 
wish." 

"Vesper  hour  is  sacred;  I  cannot  profane  it  by 
staying  away  from  service  to  amuse  even  you, 
Colonel  Clark.  Moreover  I  am  neither  French- 
man, Indian,  nor  soldier ;  I  do  not  take  orders  from 
the  Long-Knives,"  and  she  would  flash  upon  him  a 
look  of  smiling  defiance,  and  pass  on. 

"  You  are  as  cruel  as  fair,  Miss  Ellen,"  in  hurt, 
gentle  tones;  "you  cannot  guess  how  weary,  and 
heart-hungry  I  am,  or  you  would  be  more  merciful. 
Are  you  not  the  one  bit  of  home,  and  comfort,  and 
cheer  we  soldiers  have  in  this  wilderness?  Now, 
after  a  day  of  toil,  with  the  prospect  of  an  hour  of 
delight  with  you  as  my  only  recompense,  you  leave 
me  thus  without  a  word  of  regret." 

"  I  must  to  vespers,  Colonel  Clark,  but  I  shall 
hasten  back;  you  Can  wait  here  for  me." 

And  Clark  would  wait  impatiently,  Ellen  return- 
ing promptly,  as  she  had  promised,  to  put  forth  for 
him,  during  the  rest  of  the  evening,  the  utmost  of 
her  powers  of  fascination. 

Her  treatment  of  me  was  less  flattering,  I  thought, 
than  that  she  accorded  any  of  the  others.  I  was  no 
more  her  best  friend,  her  openly  favored  comrade. 
On  the  contrary,  she  treated  me  with  alternate  in- 
difference, haughtiness  and  patronage;  she  would 
seem  to  seek  occasions  of  difference,  and  then,  when 
I  was  lashed  into  answering  her,  would  flaunt  me 
angrily,  or  mock  me  with  sarcasms.  Afterwards 
she  would  repent  her  rudeness,  and  beg  my  pardon 
with  the  sweetest  humility  and  gentleness.  But  this 


210  DONALD  MCELROY 

playing  hot  and  cold  on  her  part  kept  me  in  a  sort  of 
inward  fever,  and  made  me  what  I  had  never  been 
in  my  life  before,  irritable  and  quarrelsome.  To 
the  men  under  me,  I  was  peremptory;  I  was  testy 
with  Thomas,  and  often  almost  rude  with  Clark. 
In  truth  I  was  half  frenzied  with  jealousy.  A  score 
of  times  in  the  day,  I  would  compare  myself  with 
Clark  —  set  my  appearance  and  qualities  over 
against  his,  and  cast  up  the  balance  between  us;  but, 
with  all  my  leaning  to  my  own  side,  I  could  not  blind 
myself  that  neither  in  manner,  person,  nor  gifts 
could  I  rival  him.  There  could  be  little  doubt  as 
to  which  one  of  us  Ellen  would  choose  when  a  final 
choice  was  forced  upon  her. 

The  wild  grape  vintage  was  a  customary  festival 
with  the  Kaskaskians.  The  woods  along  the  river 
were  wreathed  with  the  vines,  which  looped  from 
branch  to  branch,  or  from  tree  to  tree,  and  even  the 
berry  thickets  had  become  trellises  to  support  their 
luxuriant  meanderings.  These  wild  grapes  made  a 
rich,  delicious  wine,  much  prized  by  the  people  as  a 
beverage,  and  by  the  priests  as  an  antidote  to  the 
far  less  innocent  fire  water,  peddled  by  the  traders, 
in  boat  loads,  up  and  down  the  river.  Colonel 
Clark  not  only  consented  to  the  celebration  of  this 
one  of  their  frequent  holidays,  but  agreed  that  the 
soldiers  might  take  part  on  condition  that  no  liquors 
be  dispensed. 

All  assisted  in  the  morning's  work  of  gathering 
the  grapes,  and  piling  them  in  the  caleches,  or  two- 
wheeled  carts,  to  be  hauled  to  the  wine  vats,  then  the 
afternoon  was  given  up  to  pleasure  and  feasting. 
Games  were  interspersed  with  trials  of  strength  and 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  211 

skill,  upon  the  public  square  of  the  village ;  shooting 
at  a  mark,  hurling  the  tomahawk,  wrestling  and  rac- 
ing were  the  chief  contests,  which  were  participated 
in  by  Frenchmen  and  soldiers  on  equal  terms. 
Colonel  Clark,  Captain  Montgomery,  and  myself 
were  the  chosen  judges,  and  we  were  careful  to  dis- 
tribute the  prizes  equally,  with  no  very  strict  regard 
to  merit. 

The  free  half-breeds  and  the  panins,  with  a  few 
straggling  Indians,  had  also  their  games  apart,  pre- 
sided over  by  three  of  our  men  from  the  fort,  who 
acted  as  judges.  The  supper  was  provided  by 
Colonel  Clark,  and  besides  the  usual  pancakes  and 
maple  syrup,  served  at  nearly  all  their  feasts,  there 
were  maize  cakes,  barbecued  venison,  corn  parched, 
ground  and  sweetened,  wild  duck  and  plover  eggs 
boiled  and  roasted,  melons,  pawpaws,  mulberries 
and  sangaree.  This  supper  was  served  by  the 
cheery  matrons  of  Kaskaskia,  from  caleches  backed 
in  a  circle  around  a  part  of  the  green.  Later,  smil- 
ing maidens  bedecked  with  flowers,  came  out  of  the 
low  eaved  houses,  and  with  the  youths  and  gayer 
soldiers  fell  a  dancing  on  the  green  to  the  sound  of 
banjo  and  guitar,  in  the  light  of  a  bright  full  moon, 
beneath  a  star-studded  dome  of  clearest  azure.  It 
was  a  picture  of  simple  Arcadian  happiness,  which 
needed  only  the  embellishments  of  nature  to  beautify 
it,  only  the  impulses  of  nature  to  stimulate  it. 

Ellen  had  been  named  "  Queen  of  the  Festa  "  by 
Clark,  and  the  day  seemed  diverted  into  an  occasion 
to  honor  her.  It  was  she  who  pressed  with  dainty 
fingers  the  juice  from  the  first  bunch  of  grapes,  ere 
they  were  put  into  vats  for  trampling;  she  who  pre- 


212  DONALD  MCELROY 

sented  the  prizes  to  the  victors,  or  crowned  them 
gracefully  with  the  laurel  wreaths.  And  when  the 
music  sounded,  Clark  led  her  forth  to  tread  a  stately 
measure  alone  with  him  upon  the  green,  ere  the  gen- 
eral dancing  began.  I  did  not  know  before  that 
either  of  them  could  dance  —  for  never  had  I  seen 
such  sport  until  Nelly  Buford  had  shown  me  the 
latest  steps  at  Colonel  Morgan's.  But  Ellen  was  a 
daily  astonishment,  and  Clark  had  learned  much  in 
his  adventurous  life. 

When  they  had  thus  inaugurated  the  evening's 
gayety  as  also  they  had  presided  over  the  day's  fes- 
tivities, Ellen  and  Clark  wandered  through  the  vil- 
lage together,  in  the  moonlight,  she  leaning  on  his 
arm,  and  he  bending  over  her  like  an  accepted  lover. 
Half  an  hour  later  I  saw  them  seated  side  by  side 
on  the  steps,  under  the  nave  of  the  church,  absorbed 
in  each  other,  and  entirely  unconscious  of  me,  as  I 
passed  them  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 
Ellen  was  all  in  white,  save  for  a  black  lace  scarf 
she  wore  Spanish  fashion,  about  her  head,  and 
shoulders,  and  in  the  moonlight  she  was  a  radiant 
vision  of  girlish  loveliness  —  as  Clark  by  her 
side  was  a  picture  of  handsome  young  manhood. 
"  They  would  be  well  mated,"  I  thought  with  a  sigh 
as  I  passed  on,  homesick  and  heartsick.  In  the 
darkness  of  the  deserted  barracks,  I  sought  my  sol- 
dier's couch,  and  lay  a  long  time  awake,  thinking 
longingly  of  home  and  loved  ones  and  wrestling  with 
the  demon  of  jealousy  which  threatened  to  master 
me. 

A  deep  sigh  aroused  me  after  awhile,  from  the 
half  dream  into  which  I  had  slipped,  and  I  heard 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  213 

Thomas'  voice,  praying  in  low  tones.  Poor 
Thomas.  He  was  even  more  unhappy  than  I,  for 
he  had  deserted  home,  parents,  and  religion  for  his 
idol,  who  but  treated  him  with  cousinly  kindness. 
Yet  I  rejoiced,  though  I  pitied  him;  there  was  hope 
for  Thomas,  since  his  sorrow  and  disappointment 
but  drove  him  back  to  God,  and  his  prayers. 

Colonel  Clark  sent  for  me  next  morning,  and  be- 
gan, in  his  most  peremptory  manner  to  announce  that 
he  desired  me  to  make  ready  to  start  to  Virginia 
immediately,  to  deliver  certain  dispatches  to  the 
Governor  and  the  Assembly.  He  wished  his  ap- 
pointments confirmed,  and  the  conquered  territory  of 
the  Northwest  formally  annexed  to  Virginia.  Also, 
he  must  have  money,  supplies,  and  reinforcements 
for  a  prompt  advance  on  Detroit,  and  later  on, 
Quebec.  All  Canada  might  be  taken,  with  the  aid 
of  our  French  and  Indian  allies,  had  we  but  a 
nucleus  of  American  soldiers,  and  sufficient  means 
to  forward  the  enterprise.  I  must  not  only  deliver 
his  request  to  that  effect,  but  urge  the  members  of 
the  Assembly,  publicly  and  privately,  as  I  had  oppor- 
tunity, to  support  the  project,  and  to  vote  money  and 
men  for  it. 

When  he  had  said  all  this,  without  asking  my 
opinion,  I  stopped  him  by  suggesting  that  perhaps 
I  could  not  be  earnest  and  eloquent  enough  in  a  cause 
my  reason  and  judgment  did  not  sanction;  that  I 
had  once  helped  to  storm  Quebec,  and  knew  the 
almost  insurmountable  difficulties  of  the  attempt 
without  a  large  army  and  plenty  of  cannon;  that  I 
did  not  believe  our  allies  would  be  of  any  value  in 


214  DONALD  MCELROY 

such  an  enterprise,  and  that  in  my  opinion  we  would 
only  be  risking  what  we  had  secured,  or  abandoning 
it  more  probably,  for  a  success  dependent  upon  a 
hundred  unlikely  chances. 

Colonel  Clark  had  gazed  at  me  haughtily  as  I 
spoke  —  a  manner  the  more  nettling  because  of  his 
previous  friendliness  and  comradeship  with  me  — 
and  now  he  reprimanded  me  sharply  for  having  for- 
gotten my  position  as  a  subordinate,  whose  business 
it  was  to  obey,  not  to  advise,  and  then  added: 

"  Can  you  start,  sir,  to  Virginia  to-morrow,  with 
my  dispatches  and  commands?  " 

"  No,  Colonel  Clark,"  I  answered  with  a  haughti- 
ness that  matched  his  own:  "  I  remain  in  Kaskaskia 
till  it  is  my  pleasure  to  leave;  my  term  of  enlistment 
expires  next  week,  after  which  I  am  no  longer  under 
orders.  Confine  me  if  you  please,  in  the  guard- 
house, while  I  am  still  in  your  service,  but  I  shall  not 
go  to  Virginia  on  this  errand." 

"  And  I  know  your  reason  for  this  act  of  disre- 
spect and  disobedience,  sir.  You  are  jealous  of  my 
suit  to  Ellen  O'Neil." 

"  As  my  cousin's  lawful  protector,  I  stay  by  her 
side  until  she  is  safely  placed  with  the  guardian  she 
shall  choose  upon  reaching  her  legal  majority." 

"  Your  jealousy  has  been  made  evident  before, 
Captain  McElroy,  but  know  this,  I  recognize  not 
your  right  to  interfere  with  me  in  any  way,  nor  to 
dictate  to  Miss  O'Neil  upon  any  subject.  I  shall 
warn  her,  sir,  and  watch  you,"  and  Clark  had  grown 
so  angry  that  he  talked  now  half  random  foolishness, 
and  glared  at  me  savagely. 

No  less  angry,  I  replied,  "  And  I  shall  watch  you, 


"CousiN  DONALD!     COLONEL  CLARK!"  SHE  CALLED  SHARPLY. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  215 

Colonel  Clark.  A  man  who  can  take  advantage  of 
his  position  of  authority  to  send  his  rival  across  the 
continent  with  dispatches  that  a  common  courier 
might  as  well  carry  is  capable  of  taking  other  and 
less  honorable  advantages,  perhaps." 

"  No  man  dare  insult  me,  McElroy,  without 
knowing  that  he  must  apologize  or  fight.  Take 
your  choice;  I  am  no  longer  your  superior  officer," 
and  he  threw  aside  his  epauleted  coat,  and  plumed 
hat,  and  drawing  his  sword,  stood  before  me,  pallid 
and  rigid  with  anger. 

"  Sir,"  I  answered,  fully  as  furious  as  he,  "  you 
have  so  lorded  it  over  Frenchmen,  panins  and  In- 
dians, that  you  seem  to  have  forgotten  the  respect 
due  a  comrade  —  your  equal  in  all  save  military 
rank.  Your  challenge,  Colonel  Clark,  I  accept  with 
pleasure !  "  I  bowed  to  him,  drew  my  sword  and 
stood  at  guard. 

Neither  of  us  were  practiced  swordsmen,  but  both 
were  lithe,  active,  and  possessed  of  trained  eyes,  and 
arms.  We  fought  with  small  science,  yet  with  some 
skill,  and  in  deadly  earnest.  Without  doubt  one  or 
the  other  of  us  would  have  been  killed  or  badly 
wounded,  had  not  a  startling  interruption  paralyzed 
the  arm  of  each,  just  when  both  were  wrought  up 
to  the  killing  frenzy.  I  was  fighting  desperately  and 
so  was  Clark,  when,  suddenly,  Ellen's  voice  rang 
above  the  clash  of  our  swords,  and  the  panting  emis- 
sion of  our  breath : 

"Cousin  Donald!  Colonel  Clark!"  she  called 
sharply,  and  each  lowered  his  weapon  and  turned  to 
face  her.  She  stood  in  the  doorway,  her  eyes  glow- 
ing, her  face  quite  pale,  and  Father  Gibault  stood 


216  DONALD  MCELROY 

behind  her,  looking  more  perturbed  than  I  had  ever 
seen  him. 

"  I  know  not  whose  the  fault,"  she  added  scorn- 
fully, "  but  each  is  less  the  knight  and  patriot,  in  my 
esteem,  for  this  rash  deed.  You  would  kill  each 
other  and  bring  destruction  upon  your  patriotic  en- 
terprise, and  death  to  these  men,  whose  lives  are  in 
your  keeping?  Bah!  Men  are  children ;  their  pas- 
sions rule  them !  Father  Gibault,  will  you  stay  with 
Colonel  Clark  and  soothe  his  anger?  You  have 
hurt  me  grievously,  Colonel  Clark,  and  I  thought 
you  my  friend  — "  and  now  was  heard  the  break  in 
Ellen's  voice  which  tugged  always  at  one's  heart- 
strings. 

"Forgive  me,  Miss  Ellen!"  stammered  Clark; 
"  I  have  no  quarrel  with  your  cousin;  it  was,  as  you 
say,  foolish  anger  and  rashness.  But  in  justice  I 
must  confess  that  I  forced  this  fight  upon  McElroy," 
and  my  generous  comrade  looked  frankly  at  me. 

"  Nor  have  I  just  grounds  of  quarrel  with  you, 
Colonel  Clark,"  I  responded.  "  I  was  disrespectful 
in  my  words  and  manner.  Will  you  accept  my 
apology?  "  and  I  he.ld  out  my  hand. 

Clark  took  and  shook  it  warmly,  while  Ellen 
smiled  upon  us,  and  Father  Gibault  blessed  us  with 
low  spoken  benediction. 

"  Come  with  me,  Cousin  Donald !  "  commanded 
Ellen;  "  I  have  something  I  would  say  to  you." 

We  walked  together  toward  the  town,  for  some 
time  in  silence,  then  Ellen  said,  blushing  as  she 
spoke : 

"  Father  Gibault  tells  me  that  you  and  Colonel 
Clark  quarreled  about  me,  Cousin  Donald.  It  was 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  217 

not  kind,  nor  respectful,  and  it  was  very  fool- 
ish, if  jealousy  prompted  you,  for  I  shall  never 
marry." 

"  Never  marry,  Ellen,  and  why?  "  I  asked  in 
great  astonishment. 

"Did  not  I  tell  you,  Cousin,  that  I  had  set  before 
myself  a  high  and  holy  purpose?  I  have  sworn  a 
vow  of  consecration.  As  soon  as  I  have  reached 
my  majority,  I  shall  take  the  veil,  and  pass  the  re- 
mainder of  my  life  in  prayer,  and  God's  holy  service. 
Will  you  tell  Colonel  Clark  this  for  me?  And 
neither  of  you,  I  beg,  will  ever  again  couple  me,  even 
in  your  thoughts  with  love  and  marriage.  I  shall 
be  the  bride  of  the  Church,  I  trust,  but  never  the 
bride  of  mortal.  God  saved  me  from  an  awful  fate 
in  answer  to  my  vow  of  consecration.  To  choose  a 
life  of  worldly  pleasure  would  be  in  me  dishonesty  in 
its  worst  form.  Help  me  to  keep  my  vow,  Cousin 
Donald;  make  me  strong  to  do  the  right." 

The  touching  appeal  of  her  voice  and  manner  as 
she  spoke  thus,  it  is  not  possible  to  describe.  She 
seemed  to  throw  herself  upon  my  strength,  to  im- 
plore me  to  help  her  to  sacrifice  herself.  I  saw  how 
strongly  she  felt  all  she  said,  how  impossible  it  would 
be  to  make  her  see  now  the  folly  of  her  purpose,  and 
the  illogic  of  her  thoughts.  She  wanted  my  sympa- 
thy and  encouragement  —  yet  how  could  I  give  it  to 
her,  at  risk  of  forfeiting  my  happiness,  and  possibly 
hers !  Yet  I  could  not  fail  her. 

"  Dear  Ellen,"  I  said,  with  all  the  deep  tenderness 
of  my  heart  for  her  trembling  in  my  words,  "  what- 
ever you  finally  conclude  is  your  duty,  that  I  shall 
help  you  to  do,  with  all  the  sympathy  and  courage 


218  DONALD  MCELROY 

I  can  give  you.  But  take  no  step  rashly,  nor  with- 
out consulting  Father  Gibault.  Our  heavenly 
Father  has,  I  truly  believe,  guided  you  thus  far;  let 
us  look  to  Him  for  further  guidance." 


CHAPTER  XX 

There  was  no  lack  of  volunteers  to  convey  Colonel 
Clark's  dispatches  to  Virginia.  More  than  half  of 
the  men  it  appeared  were  anxious  to  return  to  their 
homes  at  the  expiration  t)f  their  term  of  enlistment. 
In  that  case,  but  a  handful  of  us  would  be  left,  after 
October,  to  hold  the  three  forts,  and  keep  down  the 
Indians.  Colonel  Clark  resorted  to  entreaties  and 
promises,  and  at  last  induced  about  three  hundred 
of  the  men  to  consent  to  reenlist  for  six  months  more. 
Thirty-five  were  determined  to  go,  and  even  the 
prospect  of  being  rewarded,  by  the  gratitude  of  Vir- 
ginia, with  royal  land  grants  in  the  new  territory, 
could  not  keep  them  longer. 

"  If  Virginia  did  not  choose  to  send  recruits  to 
hold  the  territory,  we  had  won  for  her,"  they  ar- 
gued, "  she  deserved  to  lose  it.  Meantime  their 
own  families  might  be  suffering  privation  or  danger, 
and  their  own  lands  be  lapsing  again  into  the  state 
of  wilderness  from  which  they  had  so  lately  rescued 
them.  They  could  risk  no  more,  sacrifice  no  fur- 
ther —  not  even  for  Virginia."  One  was  forced  to 
admit  there  was  reason  in  their  excuses. 

Thomas,  to  my  small  surprise,  was  one  of  those 
who  could  not  be  persuaded  to  remain.  Clark 
asked  me  to  remonstrate  with  him,  and  I  did  so  but 
without  success. 

"  I've  nothing  to  stay  for,"  he  answered;  "  Ellen 


220  DONALD  MCELROY 

rejects  my  love,  and  it  is  only  what  I  deserve  for  my 
stubborn  following  of  my  own  will,  and  my  disre- 
spect to  my  mother.  Since  neither  Ellen's  death  nor 
her  misery  lies  at  our  door;  since  she  has  reached  a 
safe  and  pleasant  harborage  among  people  of  her 
own  religion,  and  can  take  her  choice  between  a  nun- 
nery in  Quebec,  or  a  husband  —  who  may  be  either 
military  hero,  or  French  Catholic  as  she  will  —  I 
feel  that  my  responsibility  is  ended.  I  shall  go 
home,  Donald,  beg  my  parents'  pardon,  renew  my 
vows,  and  resume  the  work  to  which  I  was  called, 
and  upon  which  I  wickedly  turned  my  back  to  pur- 
sue a  foolish  course." 

"  I  cannot  understand  your  feelings,  Thomas,"  I 
replied,  out  of  patience  with  what  sounded  to  me  like 
spiteful  cant;  "you  joined  our  expedition  with  two 
specific  objects  in  view:  —  to  regain  your  lost  health, 
and  possibly  find  trace  of  Ellen.  You  have  accom- 
plished both  objects;  besides,  have  done  your  share 
toward  our  fortunate  achievement.  To  abandon 
us  now,  before  our  success  is  permanently  assured, 
and  Ellen  safely  settled,  seems  to  me  to  be  an  act 
of  childishness." 

"  Yours,  Donald,  is  the  soldier's  point  of  view,  and 
I  cannot  complain  of  your  disapproval.  I  see  it  all 
differently,  however.  It  was  wrong  of  me  to  come, 
in  the  first  place,  with  the  motives  that  brought  me ; 
the  only  reparation  I  can  make  is  to  go  back  as  soon 
as  possible,  confess  humbly,  and  reconsecrate  to  God 
and  duty  all  my  future  life." 

I  said  no  more,  for  I  saw  Thomas'  will  was  set; 
his  present  state  of  mind  was  as  unreasonable  as 
that  I  had  found  him  in  eight  months  before. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  221 

There  are  men  to  whom  a  medium  course  is  not  pos- 
sible—  they  are  born  fanatics;  Thomas  was  one  of 
these,  but,  in  justice  to  him,  I  must  add  here,  that  he 
grew  saner  as  he  grew  older^and  that,  with  the  com- 
ing of  maturity,  what  fanaticism  was  left  took  the 
form  of  humble  service  in  God's  name,  to  his  fellow 
men. 

Colonel  Clark's  force  now  numbered  barely  a  hun- 
dred men,  including  officers.  A  score  were  left  at 
Cahokia ;  the  rest  were  with  him  at  Kaskaskia.  It 
seemed  wise  to  preserve  a  show  of  strength  at  both 
places,  since  Indian  deputations  were  coming  to  one 
or  the  other  of  the  two  forts,  all  through  the  fall, 
to  tender  to  Colonel  Clark  the  allegiance  or  submis- 
sion of  their  tribes.  Being  but  half  a  day's  march 
apart,  our  force  could  quickly  be  massed  at  either  of 
these  points. 

Captain  Helm,  backed  chiefly  by  his  high  sounding 
title  of  "  Governor-general  of  Indian  Affairs  on  the 
Wabash,"  with  a  garrison  of  five,  held  Vincennesl 
Should  an  English  force  march  against  it  there 
would  be  no  chance  for  defense;  for  that  reason, 
that  Vincennes  might  be  strongly  garrisoned,  it 
seemed  imperative  for  us  to  have  speedy  ree'n- 
forcements  from  Virginia.  It  was  from  Vincennes 
that  Colonel  Clark  was  planning  to  advance  on  De- 
troit, but  I  had  never  any  hope  of  sufficient  reenforce- 
ments  to  make  such  advance  feasible,  even  in  Clark's 
daring  estimation,  so  gave  myself  no  anxiety  as  to 
that  rash  project. 

A  rumor  that  Vincennes  had  been  taken  by  the 
British  reached  us  about  the  middle  of  December, 


222  DONALD  MCELROY 

but  a  few  weeks  after  the  thirty-six  had  departed 
for  Virginia.  The  rumor  lacked  confirmation,  how- 
ever, and  Colonel  Clark  eagerly  awaited  the  confi- 
dently expected  reinforcements. 

After  the  cold  autumn  rains  set  in,  visits  from  the 
Indian  tribes  were  less  frequent,  and  presently  with 
the  coming  of  winter  they  ceased.  The  arrival  on 
Christmas  eve,  therefore,  of  a  large  deputation  of 
much  befeathered  warriors,  and  their  chief,  caused 
some  excitement, —  the  more  so  as  they  were  re- 
ported to  be  Miamis  from  Lake  Michigan.  This 
tribe  so  far  had  held  aloof  from  us,  and  was  said 
to  be  faithful  to  the  English.  They  demanded  an 
interview  with  the  white  chief,  Long-Knife,  and 
asked  that  he  bring  only  his  most  trusted  warriors 
to  the  council  chamber,  since  they  had  secret  matters 
of  weight  and  importance  to  discuss. 

Colonel  Clark  summoned  his  officers,  and  five 
others,  and  the  conference  began  in  the  large  room 
of  the  fort  —  where  Clark  and  I  had  indulged  in 
our  sword  play  some  days  before.  The  chief  was, 
I  thought,  not  past  middle  age,  though  it  is  difficult 
to  guess  the  age  of  a  redskin.  He  had  a  counte- 
nance of  unusual  cruelty  and  subtlety.  His  tall 
frame  was  powerfully  built,  and  his  tongue  was  both 
eloquent  and  cunning. 

"  Long-Knife  and  his  warriors  had  come,"  he 
said,  "  as  strangers  to  the  land  of  the  Algonquins ; 
they  had  come  to  bid  the  great  tribes  of  the  red  men, 
whose  fathers  had  owned  the  plains  washed  by  the 
fresh  seas,  and  the  great  Father-of-Waters,  from 
the  beginning,  to  declare  war  against  their  powerful 
English  father,  who  had  given  them  their  guns,  and 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  223 

had  protected  them  against  their  hereditary  enemies, 
the  Hurons  and  the  Iroquois.  It  was  said  that  the 
warriors  of  the  white  chief,  Big-Knife,  were  about 
to  conquer  the  warriors  of  the  great  English  father, 
but  were  willing  to  protect  the  Miamis,  and  to  leave 
them  in  peaceful  possession  of  their  lands.  He  and 
his  braves  had  come  to  ask  if  these  things  were  true, 
and  if  the  Big-Knives  sought  peace  and  friendship 
with  the  tribes  of  the  Miami." 

Colonel  Clark  responded  in  his  usual  way,  mixing 
adroitly  with  his  parade  of  cool  arrogance,  and  en- 
tire indifference,  a  tone  of  gracious  condescension. 
"  The  Miamis  might  choose  for  themselves;  he  had 
no  quarrel  with  the  red  man  —  did  they  wish  the 
redoubtable  warriors  of  Long-Knife,  and  the  great 
and  war-like  nation  they  came  from,  on  the  shore 
of  the  eastern  ocean,  for  their  friends  and  brothers 
—  did  they  wish,  as  so  many  of  their  brethren  had 
done,  to  make  alliance  with  us,  it  would  be  well  with 
them,  but  we  were  used  to  war  and  liked  it  —  if  the 
Miamis  preferred  war  —  good;  it  was  theirs  to 
choose.  But  they  must  decide  once  for  all,  and  war 
once  begun  the  Long-Knives  would  not  be  the  first  to 
sue  for  peace." 

A  long  silence  followed  Clark's  speech,  during 
which  the  Indians  gazed  fixedly  before  them,  while 
the  air  grew  dense  with  the  strong  tobacco  smoke 
they  exhaled,  in  great  deliberate  puffs.  We  also 
smoked  stolidly  on;  and  the  chief's  face  was  not 
more  a  mask  than  Clark's.  In  the  midst  of  this 
silent  ring  of  grim  smokers  —  as  an  angelic  appari- 
tion floats  into  the  vision  of  a  dream  —  glided  Ellen. 
She  came  to  my  side  with  smiling  countenance,  on 


224  DONALD  MCELROY 

which  was  no  other  expression  than  that  of  idle  curi- 
osity, gazed  calmly  into  the  hideous  faces  of  the 
savages,  and  pointing  to  the  crimson  aigrette  among 
the  head  feathers  of  one,  and  the  black  heron  quills 
worn  by  another  asked  me  in  English  to  buy  them 
for  her.  Then  without  changing  her  expression,  or 
looking  again  at  me,  she  lowered  her  tones  to  a  whis- 
per, and  scarcely  moved  her  lips  in  saying, 

"  When  I  go  out  —  wait  —  then  follow,"  and 
even  while  she  spoke  thus,  she  was  making  gestures 
of  admiration  over  the  Indian's  ornaments,  continu- 
ing to  do  so,  and  to  comment  upon  them  to  us,  as  a 
child  might. 

Presently  the  chief  began  again  to  speak.  Ellen 
listened  gravely  for  a  few  moments,  shook  her  head, 
smiled,  and  passed  out.  In  doing  so  she  walked 
behind  Clark,  and  uttered  a  whisper  like  a  sigh. 
"  Beware !  Be  on  your  guard !  " 

Clark  gave  no  sign  to  indicate  that  she  had  spoken, 
and  after  lingering  at  the  door  for  a  moment,  Ellen 
went  out,  and  we  heard  her  singing  gayly,  on  her 
way  back  to  the  town. 

But  for  her  words  to  me,  I  should  have  thought, 
as  evidently  the  Indians  did,  that  she  had  wandered 
into  the  council  chamber,  prompted  by  idle  curiosity 
alone,  and  finding  small  amusement  there,  had  wan- 
dered out  again.  The  free  customs  among  their 
own  squaws,  in  regard  to  their  comings  and  goings, 
made  the  incident  seem  natural  to  the  Indians. 

A  meaning  look  from  Clark,  the  barest  glance  of 
significance,  made  known  to  me  that  he  too  had  been 
spoken  to,  and  was  on  the  watch  for  something  un- 
usual. Ellen  was  not  found  until  I  had  gone  all  the 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  225 

way  to  her  house,  where  she  was  walking  the  floor 
in  the  greatest  excitement,  awaiting  my  arrival. 

"  Cousin  Donald,"  she  whispered,  as  if  the  walls 
had  really  ears, — "  the  fort  is  surrounded  by  armed 
savages,  they  are  lurking  in  the  bushes  and  in  the 
chimney  corners,  crouching  under  the  steps,  and  be- 
hind trees  —  they  are  everywhere.  Without  doubt 
they  await  the  signal  for  an  attack;  meantime  the 
soldiers  are  scattered  about  the  village,  and  ten  went 
this  morning,  as  you  know,  to  carry  the  powder  to 
Cahokia." 

"  We  must  take  measures  at  once  to  collect  the 
men.  You  have  already  warned  Colonel  Clark?  " 

"Yes;  and  I  have  sent  Angelique  to  seek  every 
soldier  she  can  find  loitering  about  the  village,  and 
to  bid  them  all  come  here." 

"Well  done,  Ellen!  I  shall  muster  them  as 
quietly  as  possible  and  lead  them  to  the  fort.  Have 
you  thought  of  anything  else  that  should  be  done?  " 

"  M,  Legere,  who  was  walking  on  the  bluff  with 
me  when  I  saw  the  Indians,  with  Colonel  Clark's 
spy  glass,  has  already  started  to  Cahokia,  mounted 
on  the  fleetest  horse  in  the  village.  If  only  you  can, 
by  some  strategy,  delay  the  signal  until  the  men  from 
Cahokia  can  get  here." 

"  They  will,  I  imagine,  wait  for  twilight.  The 
savages  seem  to  rely  much  upon  the  aid  of  surprise 
and  confusion.  If  Legere's  horse  is  fleet,  and  they 
have  boats  in  readiness  at  Cahokia,  reinforcements 
should  reach  us  by  midnight;  but  that  will  be  too  late, 
I  fear.  It  will  hardly  be  possible  to  divert  the  In- 
dians from  their  purpose  so  long.  But,  now  that 
we  are  warned,  we  may  find  a  way  to  outwit  them." 


226  DONALD  MCELROY 

Having  disposed  my  men  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  fort,  in  a  convenient  clump  of  trees,  I  told  them 
to  wait  in  absolute  silence  for  the  sound  of  my  tur- 
key call  within  the  fort  and  then  to  surround  the 
council  chamber  with  a  rush,  making,  as  they  did  so, 
all  the  hideous  noises  possible. 

The  chief  was  still  speaking  when  I  returned  to 
the  council  chamber,  but  his  manner  and  his  words 
were  less  conciliatory  and  his  warriors  were  scowl- 
ing ominously. 

"  Let  my  friend,  and  brother  chief,  speak  for  the 
great  American  father,  General  Washington,  since 
you  profess  to  doubt  my  word,"  said  Colonel  Clark, 
as,  a  moment  later,  the  chief  concluded  his  second 
wordy  and  pointless  harangue.  "  Tell  the  chief, 
Captain  McElroy,  since  you  were  present  on  the 
day  it  happened,  how  the  warriors  of  Chief  Wash- 
ington defeated  the  warriors  of  the  English  father, 
on  the  great  battlefield  west  of  the  Alleghanies,  and 
how  you  took  prisoners  a  whole  tribe  of  them  at 
Saratoga." 

Stepping  into  the  midst  of  the  circle,  I  told  them 
of  the  surrender  of  Saratoga,  vaunting  much  the 
courage  of  my  tribe,  and  the  war-like  skill  of  our 
chiefs,  and  ending  thus :  "  Before  many  more 
moons  have  waxed  and  waned,  the  English  will 
mount  again  their  white  winged  birds,  their  great 
ships,  and  sail  back  across  the  wide  waters  to  their 
own  land,  leaving  all  this  country  subject  to  the  great 
confederation  of  the  white  American  tribes.  And 
when  the  English  are  gone,  and  our  great  chief 
Washington  shall  march  his  armies  against  the  still 
hostile  Indians,  woe  to  those  who  have  refused  our 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  227 

friendship !  They  shall  be  shaken  as  ripe  fruit  from 
the  boughs;  scattered  to  the  four,  corners  of  the 
earth,  as  fruit  blossoms  by  the  wind  of  an  April 
storm." 

The  Indians  listened  to  me  at  first  with  solemn 
stolidity,  then  began  to  utter  low  grunts  of  unbelief, 
or  anger,  and  at  last  to  exchange  black  looks,  and 
to  scowl  at  me  threateningly.  Still  they  smoked  on ; 
still  Colonel  Clark  and  his  councilors  smoked  si- 
lently, paying  no  sort  of  heed  to  the  angry  demon- 
strations of  the  savages. 

The  sun  set,  meanwhile,  and  what  with  the  fast- 
coming  winter's  twilight  without,  and  the  thick  fog 
of  smoke  within,  one  could  scarcely  see  the  faces 
about  him  well  enough  to  distinguish  white  face  from 
red,  friend  from  foe. 

As  I  sat  down,  the  chief  laid  aside  his  pipe,  with 
the  utmost  deliberation,  and  rose  to  his  feet,  tower- 
ing in  the  midst  of  his  warriors,  who  closely  copied 
all  his  expressions  and  actions.  We  rose,  also,  and 
the  two  half  circles  faced  each  other  grimly,  while 
the  murky  redness  of  the  sun's  last  rays  cast  a  mo- 
mentary lurid  illumination  over  the  scene. 

With  a  quick  gesture  the  chief  drew  from  his  long 
robe  of  white  bear's  skin  two  wampum  belts  —  the 
peace  and  war  belts  —  and  flung  them  with  haughty 
and  insulting  air  upon  the  table. 

"  There  are  two  belts  of  wampum,"  he  said,  and 
the  Indians  crowded  closer  about  him;  "you  know 
what  they  mean.  Choose  which  you  will !  " 

There  was  awesome  silence  for  a  moment.  For 
the  second  time  in  my  life  I  knew  the  feeling  of 
subtle,  unreasoning  terror,  such  as  must  precede  a 


228  DONALD  MCELROY 

panic;  but  again  with  a  tremendous  effort  of  will 
I  controlled  the  impulse,  and  looked  calmly  from  one 
to  another  of  the  scowling,  cruel  faces  —  watching, 
as  beasts  do,  for  a  chance  to  spring. 

Clark  gave  each  a  calm,  undaunted  stare,  then 
fixed  his  deliberate,  scornful  gaze  upon  the  chief, 
picked  up  the  wampum  belts  on  the  point  of  his 
sword,  took  them  in  his  right  hand,  and  drawing 
himself  to  his  utmost  height,  flung  them  full  into  the 
face  of  the  chief,  as  he  said  in  tones  of  contempt : 

"  Begone,  ye  dogs !  Back  to  your  squaws,  and 
your  beaver  traps !  " 

Upon  this  instant  I  blew  my  turkey  call,  long,  and 
shrilly.  From  without  came  the  sound  as  of  a  rush- 
ing multitude,  mingled  with  yells,  whoops,  and  howls. 
The  Indians  seemed  suddenly  cowed  and  gathered 
together  in  a  huddled  group. 

"  We  are  trapped!  "  called  the  chief,  and  made  a 
leap  for  the  door,  followed  by  the  rest.  The  sav- 
ages without  were  fleeing  also.  Clark  called  out  in 
loud  and  positive  commands  that  they  should  be 
neither  killed  nor  hindered. 

"  Let  them  run  like  the  coward  dogs  they  are,"  he 
said,  "  we  care  neither  to  capture  their  living  nor  to 
bury  their  dead  carcasses." 

In  the  midst  of  the  excitement,  reinforcements 
arrived  from  Cahokia,  Legere  having  met  a  squad 
on  their  way  to  Kaskaskia.  Clark  now  stationed 
guards  all  around  the  fort  and  the  town,  and  ordered 
that  the  soldiers  hold  themselves  in  readiness  to  re- 
pulse a  night  attack.  The  Indians  loitered  all  night 
in  the  bushes  about  the  fort,  and  we  could  hear  them 
arguing  hotly.  When  morning  came,  they  sent  in 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  229 

a  deputation  of  three  to  sue  for  peace,  after  which 
they  hastily  departed. 

I  shall  not  now  relate  an  incident  which  happened 
later  that  night  when  some  of  the  loitering  Indians 
attempted  to  take  terrible  revenge  on  Ellen,  whose 
warning  to  Clark  they  afterwards  suspected,  and 
from  which  it  was  my  very  good  fortune  to  save  her. 
Thus  repaying  twice  over,  since  her  life  was  twice 
as  valuable  as  mine,  the  debt  I  owed  her,  and  prov- 
ing that  I  counted  my  own  naught,  as  weighed 
against  her  safety  and  her  honor. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

For  four  days,  a  fine,  thick  rain  had  been  descend- 
ing persistently  from  the  low,  gray-blanketed  sky, 
and  a  wet  mist  rose  from  the  sodden  earth  to  meet 
it.  The  soil  reeked  with  dampness;  it  oozed  from 
the  walls  of  the  stone  or  stuccoed  houses,  dripped 
from  the  sloping  roofs  of  rambling  porches,  satu- 
rated one's  clothes,  and  permeated  one's  blood. 
The  Kaskaskia  River,  pushed  out  of  its  banks  by 
its  swollen  tributaries,  had  overflowed  all  the  bot- 
toms, and  banked  the  waters  of  the  bayous  up  into 
the  hills.  The  village  was  surrounded  by  water  on 
three  sides,  and  from  the  fort  one  could  see  nothing 
save  the  dreary  waste  of  still,  dull  water.  Even 
the  reeds,  canes,  and  grasses  which  ordinarily 
fringed  the  bayous,  adding  something  of  life  and 
grace,  were  now  submerged. 

In  all  the  village  there  was  but  one  cheerful,  woo- 
ing spot :  —  the  room  in  the  late  Commandant's 
house,  made  bright  by  the  presence  of  Ellen,  and 
kept  warm  and  cheery  by  the  crackling  logs  piled 
high  in  the  wide  fireplace.  Here  Ellen  gave  gra- 
cious welcome  to  officer  and  private,  priest  and 
native,  coureur  de  bois  from  Canada,  trader  from 
New  Orleans,  and  scout  from  the  eastern  settle- 
ments—  whoever  might  chance  our  way,  so  he 
deport  himself  gentlemanwise.  And  now,  since 
the  winter  and  the  rains  had  settled  upon  us,  since 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  231 

the  Indian  deputations  had  ceased  to  trouble  us, 
and  traders  were  rare,  the  town  afforded  the  offi- 
cers no  other  diversion  than  a  twice  daily  visit  to 
Queen  Eleanor's  audience  chamber. 

Colonel  Clark,  Captains  Bowman,  Montgom- 
ery, Harrod  and  I,  with  Legere  and  Dr.  Lafonte 
occupied  usually  the  inner  circle  around  the  fire, 
Ellen  throned  in  our  midst  My  quill  falls  from 
my  hand  and  I  lose  myself  in  the  scenes  which  my 
memory  recalls  so  vividly  that  almost  I  live  them 
over  again.  Ellen's  graceful  head,  outlined  by 
dark  ringlets,  rests  against  the  white  bear  skin 
which  covers  her  chair;  her  slender  hands  are 
crossed  in  her  lap,  and  her  arched  feet,  in  their  gay 
moccasins,  are  half  buried  in  the  panther's  skin 
thrown  over  her  foot  rest.  The  fire,  of  seasoned 
logs  three  feet  in  length,  lights  the  low-ceiled  stone 
room  with  a  vivid  glow  and  suffuses  the  atmosphere 
with  a  fragrant  warmth.  This  glow  of  the  flames 
plays  becomingly  on  Ellen's  rich,  soft  coloring,  and 
even  brings  out  the  shadows  made  by  the  long  lashes 
upon  her  cheeks.  Also  it  shows  plainly  the  varied 
colors  and  markings  of  the  wild  skins  hung  thick 
upon  the  wall,  and  the  gay  stripes  in  the  heavy  In- 
dian mats  upon  the  floor. 

Better  still  than  the  cheerful  scene  was  the  pleasant 
talk  that  filled  the  room,  the  bright,  earnest  discus- 
sions which  did  more  to  keep  us  keyed  to  our  other- 
wise dreary  task  than  all  the  promises  that  we  could 
make  ourselves  of  future  fortune  and  renown.  Who 
can  gauge  the  value  of  woman's  social  tact  and  sym- 
pathy? In  all  ages  they  have  been  magnets  around 
which  great  thoughts  and  noble  deeds  have  focused. 


23  2  DONALD  MCELROY 

Some  of  the  conversations  held  in  the  long,  stone 
room  at  Kaskaskia  seem  to  me  to  have  been  worthy 
the  most  brilliant  salons  in  Paris,  or  the  most  famous 
of  London  coffee-houses.  Ellen  was  never  one  of 
those  chattering  women  —  though  she  could  express 
herself  pithily  and  gracefully  when  she  had  anything 
to  say  —  but  she  was  the  most  inspiring  listener  I 
have  ever  seen. 

Colonel  Clark  was  a  bold  and  brilliant  talker, 
though  sometimes  arrogant  and  boastful.  Legere, 
who  had  been  bred  and  educated  in  Paris,  had  cul- 
ture, and  a  keen  tongue.  Bowman  was  a  man  of 
careful  observation,  shrewd  thinking,  and  close  rea- 
soning; and  my  own  love  of  mental  exercise  made  me 
an  ambitious  aspirant  in  these  conversational  bouts, 
over  which  Ellen  presided  with  inspiring  guidance. 

The  future  of  America  was  the  subject  we  often- 
est  discussed*  perhaps,  and  the  one  upon  which  we 
diverged,  too,  most  widely.  Colonel  Clark  favored 
the  organization  of  thirteen  free  states,  confederated 
as  loosely  as  possible.  I  was  for  a  close  federation 
with  a  strong  central  government.  All  the  delays 
and  difficulties  of  our  war  were  due  to  the  lack  of  a 
central  authority,  it  seemed  to  me.  And  even  after 
our  independence  should  be  achieved  we  must  fall  to 
pieces,  I  argued,  or  become  the  prey  of  European 
powers  unless  we  sought  strength  in  a  firmly  ce- 
mented union. 

"  But  Virginia,"  argued  Clark,  "  had  everything 
to  lose,  and  nothing  to  gain  by  union.  With  the  Il- 
linois territory  added  to  her  possessions  she  would 
be  the  largest,  richest,  and  strongest,  of  the  States, 
and  could  dominate  the  rest.  No  union  would  be 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  233 

agreed  to  by  the  other  States  which  did  not  provide 
for  the  territorial  reduction  of  the  Old  Dominion  — 
for  her  relinquishment,  doubtless,  of  all  we  had  won 
for  her,  and  that  we  would  never  consent  to.  Why 
should  Virginia  voluntarily  weaken  herself  in  order 
to  strengthen  a  union  which  would  control  all  her 
resources?  " 

To  this  Ellen  responded,  taking  sides  with  me: 
"  A  course  of  unselfish  patriotism  was  the  only  course 
worthy  of  Virginia,  and  the  only  one  consistent  with 
her  admirable  policy  so  far.  The  building  of  a 
free,  mighty,  and  glorious  republic  in  America  which 
might  become  a  pattern  for  future  democracies  was 
the  object  for  which  all  true  Virginians  and  all  en- 
lightened patriots  should  be  willing  to  sacrifice  ev- 
erything." 

Legere  agreed  with  Clark,  Bowman  with  me,  and 
our  argument  waxed  warm  —  always  to  be  quieted 
or  diverted  by  Ellen's  skillful  management.  One 
day,  however,  Clark  was  more  arrogant  than  usual, 
and  I  more  vehement,  so  that  at  last  we  quarreled 
like  school  boys. 

Ellen's  sarcasm,  as  she  rebuked  us,  seemed  di- 
rected at  me  rather  than  at  Clark,  and  I  left  the 
room  in  an  unseemly  rage,  being  for  several  days  too 
sore,  and  too  much  ashamed  of  myself,  to  return. 

No  loafing  place  was  left  me,  now,  save  the  large 
room  in  the  barracks,  where  the  men  were  accus- 
tomed to  assemble.  On  a  certain  afternoon  it  be- 
came unbearable.  The  chimney  smoked,  the  damp 
logs  burned  grudgingly,  the  soldiers,  who  were  now 
in  the  town,  slept  snoring  on  the  floor,  wrapped  in 
their  blankets,  or  sprawled  on  the  benches,  and 


234  DONALD  McELROY 

smoked  strong  pipes.  My  heart  ached  with  home 
longing;  for  but  an  hour  with  the  dear  circle  around 
the  cheerful  hearth,  in  the  big  room,  I  would  at  that 
moment  have  resigned  all  the  prospects  of  my  life  — 
save  only  my  hope  of  winning  Ellen.  I  could  stand 
it  within  no  longer,  and  wrapping  my  cloak  around 
me,  and  pulling  my  bearskin  cap  over  my  ears,  set 
out  to  walk  to  the  boat  landing.  It  would  afford  me 
a  moment's  diversion  to  see  how  far  the  water  had 
risen  since  yesterday.  Then  the  lower  end  of  the 
wharf  was  an  inch  under  water. 

Now  it  was  completely  submerged,  and  the  ground 
all  about  it.  If  a  boat  should  chance  to  come  to 
Kaskaskia  it  must  seek  precarious  landing  upon  a 
rock,  which  in  dry  weather,  was  half  way  up  the  low 
bluff  on  this  side  of  the  river,  below  the  town.  I 
made  my  way  to  this  rock,  and  stood  looking  out 
on  the  formless  waste  of  waters  with  a  new  sympa- 
thy for  the  victims  of  the  flood,  and  a  sudden  emo- 
tion of  deep  thankfulness  for  the  rock-ribbed  moun- 
tains, rolling  hills,  upland  meadows  and  well  re- 
stricted, gentle  streams  of  our  dear  valley.  He 
who  would  might  come  west  to  dwell  in  the  rich 
alluvial  valley  of  the  Mississippi,  and  her  tributaries 
—  as  for  me,  I  wished  no  other  heritage  than  one 
of  the  fertile,  smiling  farms  in  the  valley  of  Vir- 
ginia. 

As  I  gazed  thus,  my  mind  upon  my  own  land 
rather  than  upon  this  desolation,  a  moving  speck 
appeared  upon  the  waters,  and  rapidly  approached. 
Yes,  it  was  a  boat,  one  of  those  long,  deep,  swift 
boats  used  by  the  coureurs,  and  the  traders.  The 
two  men  propelling  it  were  standing,  evidently  look- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  235 

ing  for  the  wharf.  I  called  and  signaled  to  them 
to  drift  a  little  down  stream,  and  land  upon  the  rock; 
then  I  clambered  to  its  lower  edge,  and  stood  in 
readiness  to  help  them.  I  had  by  this  time  recog- 
nized Colonel  Vigo  and  his  servant.  A  month  be- 
fore they  had  stopped  with  us  on  their  way  to  the 
Illinois  country,  when  Colonel  Vigo  had  offered  to 
spy  out  for  Colonel  Clark  the  real  condition  of  af- 
fairs at  Vincennes,  and  to  send  or  to  bring  him  word. 
His  coming  back  so  soon  foreboded  ill  news;  he 
would  hardly  have  returned  at  such  inclement  season, 
but  to  warn  us.  We  had  hardly  counted  on  such 
friendship  from  him,  though  we  knew  that  he  wished 
well  to  the  cause  of  America.  Moreover,  he  had 
seemed  to  conceive  a  strong  friendship  both  for 
Colonel  Clark  and  myself. 

Sardinian  by  birth,  soldier  of  fortune  by  profes- 
sion, Spanish  officer  by  rank  won  in  Spanish  wars,  he 
was  to  me  a  most  interesting  character.  Bold,  yet 
cautious,  rash  yet  diplomatic,  shrewd  yet  daring,  ac- 
complished gentleman  yet  reckless  adventurer,  In- 
dian by  mode  of  life,  but  in  manner  and  preferred 
tongue  French  —  he  was  a  type  of  that  age  and  that 
civilization,  which  alone  could  have  produced  his 
like. 

"  Ah,  McElroy,"  he  called  to  me,  as  I  gave  him 
my  hand  to  help  him  spring  ashore,  speaking  in 
what  he  called  English  tongue,  but  which  was  really 
an  impossible  dialect,  composed  of  a  conglomerate 
of  English,  French,  Italian,  Spanish  and  Indian 
wrords,  so  that  I  do  not  attempt  to  reproduce  it,  but 
give  only  the  substance  of  his  utterances,  "  It  is  you 
then,  and  where  is  the  Colonel?  " 


236  DONALD  McELROY 

"Visiting,"  I  answered,  rather  curtly;  "  do  you 
come  from  Vincennes?  " 

"  So  the  Colonel  is  courting  the  fair  Americaness, 
eh  ?  —  and  you,  mon  ami,  sulk  upon  the  rock !  Is  it 
that  you  have  surrendered?  I  thought  it  not  pos- 
sible for  a  stubborn  Scotchman  to  own  defeat  —  but 
this  is  no  time  for  banter.  Yes,  Captain  McElroy, 
I  come  from  Vincennes,  and  I  have  for  the  Colonel 
important  news.  He  must  arouse  himself  from  the 
idle  pleasure  of  paying  court  to  beauty,  and  go  back 
to  the  arduous  work  of  a  soldier  would  he  hold  his 
footing  on  the  Wabash." 

Meantime  we  had  reached  the  village,  and  were 
soon  before  the  Commandant's  house.  A  panin 
summoned  Clark  for  us,  and  together  we  walked 
toward  the  fort,  while  Colonel  Vigo  told  how  Vin- 
cennes had  fallen,  and  outlined  clearly  the  present 
state  of  affairs  at  that  place.  The  fort  had  been 
repaired  and  restocked,  and  was  garrisoned  by  a 
force  of  eighty  mixed  English  and  Canadians.  The 
French  inhabitants  were  overawed,  and  the  Wabash 
Indians  were  in  sympathy  with  the  English.  The 
Miamis,  who  had  recently  made  a  pretended  treaty 
with  us,  were  really  agents  of  Hamilton,  having 
been  hired  by  him  to  kill  or  capture  Clark,  and  as 
many  of  his  men  as  possible.  Having  been  disap- 
pointed in  their  anticipations  of  big  scalp  money, 
they  were  awaiting  surlily  a  chance  of  revenge. 
The  French  were,  however,  in  heart,  still  loyal  to  us, 
and  Father  Gibault  —  who  had  been  all  the  time 
with  Captain  Helm,  as  also  had  Scout  Givens  —  was 
using  all  his  diplomacy  for  us.  It  was  due  to  his 
insistence  that  Colonel  Vigo  was  released,  and  al- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  237 

lowed  to  leave  the  town,  even  though  he  refused  to 
swear  that  he  would  do  nothing  hostile  to  the  British 
cause. 

Clark  heard  Colonel  Vigo  to  the  end,  then  asked 
two  or  three  questions  as  to  General  Hamilton's  ex- 
pectation of  reinforcements,  or  apparent  apprehen- 
sion lest  he  be  attacked  by  the  Americans.  Colonel 
Vigo  answered  that  he  seemed  to  anticipate  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other,  whereupon  Clark  turned 
to  his  officers,  now  gathered  about  him,  and  said 
in  the  tone  of  a  man  promulgating  some  joyful 
news. 

"  Men,  we  march  at  once  to  Vincennes !  We  are 
too  near  success  to  yield  to  the  first  reverse.  Have 
the  drum  beat  for  roll  call,  McElroy !  " 

When  all  the  men,  and  many  of  the  villagers,  were 
assembled  on  the  parade  ground  before  the  fort, 
Clark  clambered  upon  the  body  of  a  caleche  and 
made  them  one  of  his  stirring  speeches,  recalling  the 
treachery  of  General  Hamilton  and  the  successful 
strategem  of  Captain  Helm. 

At  its  conclusion,  loud  cheers  rang  forth,  and  the 
men  crowded  about  the  caleche. 

"  Right,  Colonel,"  called  one  of  the  men,  "  we 
must  thrash  this  *  hair-buyer  '  General;  he  has  been 
needing  a  lesson  for  some  time." 

"  We'll  thrash  him,  Colonel,  never  doubt  it !  " 
called  another. 

"  If  the  Kaskaskians  wish  to  help  us  —  if  they 
have  found  us  true  allies  and  kind  friends,  we 
promise  them  full  recognition  and  reward  with  our 
regular  soldiers,"  added  Clark.  "  Wish  any  of  you 
to  enlist  with  us?  " 


238  DONALD  McELROY 

"  I !  I !  I !  "  came  from  a  dozen  throats,  in 
chorus. 

"  Legere  shall  captain  you,  if  as  many  as  twenty- 
five  enlist,"  added  Clark.  "  Will  you  take  down 
their  names,  Legere,  and  organize  your  company?  " 
turning  to  that  Frenchman,  who  accepted  both  the 
honor  and  the  task  with  enthusiasm. 

The  commons  now  presented  a  lively  and  almost 
a  cheerful  scene;  the  men  gathered  in  groups  here 
and  there,  talking  excitedly;  drums  were  beating,  and 
the  villagers  chattering  and  gesticulating.  Sud- 
denly, too,  the  western  sun  broke  through  environ- 
ing mist  and  cloud,  and  poured  over  the  scene  a 
crimson  glow,  which  might  have  been  a  word  of 
promise  spoken  from  Heaven,  so  much  it  cheered 
them. 

"  McElroy,"  said  Clark  in  my  ear,  "  I  would  like 
a  word  apart  with  you,  please  " ;  then  as  we  walked 
off  together:  "It  is  time  this  rivalry  between  us 
were  somehow  put  an  end  to ;  there  are  too  few  of 
us  pledged  to  this  dangerous  enterprise  to  risk  per- 
sonal bitterness,  especially  among  the  officers,  who 
should  be  in  entire  accord.  You  love  your  cousin, 
Ellen  O'Neil,  and  so  do  I.  You  wish  to  marry 
her,  so  do  I.  Which  one  of  us  she  prefers  I  defy 
angel,  devil,  or  man  to  determine.  But  she  must 
decide  between  us,  and  quickly.  If  it  is  you  she 
loves,  she  must  say  so,  and  I  will  resign  all  claim, 
and  cease  to  trouble  either  of  you.  If  it  is  I,  can 
you  agree  to  do  the  same  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  a  little  reluctantly.  "  If  she 
loves  you,  Colonel  Clark,  I  promise  to  withdraw  my 
suit.  Only  as  her  cousin  and  present  guardian,  I 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  239 

would  have  a  right,  I  think,  to  exact  one  promise  of 
you,  and  that  is  that  you  will  forswear  a  single 
habit,  and  promise  to  settle  down  when  this  war  is 
over.  Can  a  man  who  loves  adventure,  as  you  do, 
resign  it  for  the  love  of  a  woman  —  Colonel  Clark 
—  to  say  nothing  of  that  other  passion  which  some- 
times overmasters  you?  " 

Clark's  face  darkened  and  flushed,  but  with  an 
effort  he  controlled  himself.  "  As  her  kinsman,  Mc- 
Elroy,  you  doubtless  have  a  right  to  speak  thus  to 
me.  You  refer  to  my  love  for  strong  drink,  and 
speak  of  my  passion  for  adventure.  The  one  I 
could  easily  resign  for  Ellen's  sake ;  the  other  —  'tis 
embedded  in  my  nature,  yet  even  adventure,  me- 
thinks,  might  be  well  exchanged  for  the  love  of  such 
a  woman;  for  domestic  joys  with  her  to  share  them; 
for  friends,  home  and  children.  Yes,  McElroy,  I 
can  imagine  myself  a  quiet,  respectable,  church- 
going  citizen  —  and  yet  content." 

"  Then  the  decision  rests  with  Ellen  alone. 
Should  she  choose  you,  I  promise  to  give  my  sanc- 
tion to  her  choice.  But  I  fear  there  is  small  hope 
for  either  of  us.  Have  you  not  heard  her  say  that 
she  intends  to  take  the  veil,  to  be  a  nun?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  never  believed  that  she  meant  it 
in  her  heart  of  hearts,  though  she  has  deceived  her- 
self into  thinking  she  does,  by  telling  herself  that  it 
is  her  holy  duty." 

"  She  does  not  seem  to  me  called  to  the  vocation 
of  a  nun."  I  was  smiling  at  the  mere  thought  of  the 
brilliant  Ellen  in  a  nunnery. 

"  Surely  she  is  not,  McElroy;  could  she  be  happy, 
think  you,  shut  out  from  a  world  which  interests  her 


24o  DONALD  MCELROY 

so  fully?  Your  quiet  valley,  with  its  dull  routine 
of  duty  and  religion  made  her  rebellious,  then  how 
would  she  endure  life  in  a  convent?  No,  she  greatly 
misunderstands  herself.  I  should  rather,  by  far,  see 
her  your  wife,  McElroy,  than  to  know  that  all  her 
brilliancy  and  charms  were  hidden  behind  the  chill 
walls  of  a  convent." 

"  And  I  would  far  rather  see  her  your  wife  than 
a  nun." 

"  Then  let  us  pledge  mutual  aid,  thus  far  —  that 
we  will  both  use  all  the  influence  we  may  have  with 
her  to  keep  her  from  a  convent.  Shall  we  go  now 
to  see  her,  and  bid  her  choose  between  us?  " 

"  It  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  the  wisest  course. 
Suppose  she  should  absolutely  refuse  both  of  us?  or 
even  in  case  we  can  persuade  her  that  she  is  not 
called  to  a  convent  life,  and  can  induce  her  to  make 
choice,  suppose  one  of  us  should  be  killed  in  this 
attack  upon  Vincennes,  and  he  the  one  she  had 
chosen?  Might  she  not  afterwards  feel  it  disloyal 
to  the  memory  of  that  one  to  listen  to  the  addresses 
of  the  other,  and  so  be  more  than  ever  disposed  to 
think  herself  set  apart  to  virgin  consecration?  Let 
us  leave  the  matter  undecided  until  one  or  both  of  us 
return  from  Vincennes.  I  can  trust  you  to  take  no 
less  interest  in  my  safety  on  that  account,  and  you,  I 
think,  can  likewise  trust  me.  Should  I  fall,  my  rights 
in  Ellen,  such  as  they  are,  become  yours.  Should 
you  be  killed,  I  inherit  your  claim  to  her.  Meantime 
both  are  pledged  to  use  our  utmost  endeavors  to  keep 
her  out  of  a  convent  —  even  though  to  do  so,  we 
must  help  the  other  to  win  her." 

"  Shrewdly  said,  McElroy,"  replied  the  Colonel, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  241 

with  a  hearty  laugh.  "  It  is  a  true  Scotch-Irishman's 
bargain  you  propose  —  many  chances,  to  win,  few  to 
lose.  Your  hand  on  it.  Once  more  we  are  good 
friends,  and  loyal  comrades,  pledged  together  and 
twice  over  to  two  noble  causes :  one  —  the  independ- 
ence of  the  United  States  of  America  and  the  saving 
of  the  world  for  democracy,  and  the  other  —  to  pre- 
serve to  the  world  the  beauty,  the  wit,  and  the  spirit 
of  Ellen  O'Neil." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

I  shall  pass  over  the  details  of  our  arduous  mid- 
winter march  of  one  hundred  and  sixfy  miles  to  Vin- 
cennes  across  swamps  and  flooded  plains.  Also  any 
account  of  the  three  separate  mutinies  of  our  French 
recruits  and  the  almost  irreparable  loss  of  our  boat, 
the  Willing,  and  consequent  lack  of  food  and  rest 
while  we  worked  feverishly,  knee  deep  in  water, 
building  canoes. 

The  timely  capture,  after  we  had  crossed  the 
swollen  river  and  reached  firmer  ground,  of  an  In- 
dian canoe  loaded  with  buffalo  meat,  corn,  and 
(strange  circumstance)  several  large  kettles,  alone 
saved  our  men  from  starving  and  our  hazardous  at- 
tempt from  total  disaster  On  the  afternoon  of  the 
eighteenth  day  we  reached  Vincennes,  and  with  our 
numerous  flags,  which  through  all  the  suffering  of  the 
march  we  had  never  relinquished,  mounted  on  long 
poles,  Clark  disposed  his  little  band  in  squads,  and 
ordered  them  to  march  some  distance  apart  and  to 
follow  the  winding  road  (easily  seen  from  the  vil- 
lage, though  hidden  from  the  fort)  to  the  town. 

Not  only  did  we  meet  with  no  resistance  from  the 
townspeople,  but  numbers  of  them  offered  to  assist 
us  in  storming  the  fort.  Tabac  and  his  hundred  In- 
dians, who  were  camping  near  the  town,  likewise 
offered  their  services  as  allies. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  243 

When  the  firing  upon  Fort  Sackville  began,  Gen- 
eral Hamilton  was  in  Captain  Helm's  quarters  play- 
ing piquet  with  his  prisoner,  while  the  latter  brewed 
upon  the  hearth  his  favorite  beverage  —  a  spiced 
apple  toddy.  Helm's  room  had  been  pointed  out  to 
us,  and  we  aimed  at  his  chimney.  Soot  and  plaster 
came  tumbling  down,  half  filled  the  kettle  and  ruined 
the  smoking  drink.  The  players  sprang  to  their 
feet. 

"  I'll  wager  it's  Clark,  and  his  riflemen,  General," 
said  the  jovial  Helm.  "  They'll  take  the  fort,  for 
they  are  the  finest  marksmen  in  the  world.  Mean- 
time they've  spoiled  our  toddy,  d 'em,  and  with 

malicious  intent  you  may  be  sure;  some  villager  has 
indicated  my  quarters  to  McElroy,  I  dare  say,  and  he 
pays  his  respects  to  me,  and  announces  their  presence 

this  way.  D their  sure  bullets  and  their  rude 

jokes;  wish  we  had  drunk  that  toddy  sooner.  Now 
look  at  it !  "  and  he  held  out  a  ladle  full,  gritty  with 
dried  mud,  and  black  with  soot. 

"  You  are  cool  ones,  you  Americans,"  said  Ham- 
ilton, with  an  uneasy  laugh.  "  Pray,  how  do  you 
suppose  Clark  would  get  his  men  here  through  these 
floods?" 

"  They  swam,  maybe  —  oh,  Clark  and  his  rifle- 
men are  equal  to  anything.  Might  as  well  run  up 
your  white  flag,  General,  and  be  done  the  sooner 
with  this  unpleasant  business ;  we  can  finish  our  game 
then,  and  have  Clark  in  to  help  drink  my  second 
brewing  —  he's  good  at  that  as  at  fighting;  we'll 
make  a  jolly  party." 

"  Curse  your  impudence,  Helm !  I'll  not  sur- 
render the  fort  while  there's  a  man  to  the  guns !  " 


244  DONALD  McELROY 

and  Hamilton  departed,  sputtering  with  angry  excite- 
ment. 

All  night  brisk  firing  was  kept  up  on  both  sides; 
at  the  same  time  detachments  of  us  worked  like 
beavers  to  make  a  trench  about  a  hundred  yards  in 
front  of  the  main  gate.  Early  next  morning  Clark 
sent  in  a  flag  with  a  bold  demand  for  surrender,  and 
during  the  respite  afforded  by  its  reception  the  men 
ate  a  hearty  breakfast,  provided  by  the  well  disposed 
townspeople.  It  was  the  first  meal  they  had  had  in 
five  days.  This  was  the  message  sent  by  Clark  under 
his  flag  of  truce,  and  it  is  so  characteristic  of  the  man 
that  I  quote  it  verbatim : 

"  Sir — In  order  to  save  yourself  from  the  impend- 
ing storm  that  now  threatens  you,  I  order  you  imme- 
diately to  surrender  yourself  with  all  your  garrison, 
stores,  etc.,  etc.  For  if  I  am  obliged  to  storm,  you 
may  depend  on  such  treatment  as  is  justly  due  a 
murderer.  Beware  of  destroying  stores  of  any  kind, 
or  any  papers  or  letters  that  are  in  your  possession, 
for,  by  Heaven,  if  you  do,  there  shall  be  no  mercy 
shown  you.  "  G.  R.  CLARK." 

An  angry  and  scornful  refusal  was  returned  by 
General  Hamilton  to  this  stern  demand,  and  the  fir- 
ing was  renewed.  Wherever  a  port-hole  was  open, 
a  dozen  rifles  were  aimed  upon  it,  and  the  bullets 
poured  through  like  hail;  the  gunners  were  killed  as 
fast  as  they  were  sent  to  the  guns.  Even  the  cracks 
in  the  walls  afforded  targets  to  the  death-dealing 
bullets  of  the  riflemen,  and  more  than  one  of  the 
garrison  fell  pierced  through  the  eye. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  245 

The  afternoon  of  the  second  day  brought  a  flag  of 
truce  from  General  Hamilton,  asking  for  a  cessation 
of  hostilities  for  three  days,  and  a  conference  with 
Colonel  Clark  at  the  fort.  Clark  refused  the  terms 
offered  by  Hamilton,  but  agreed  to  a  conference  in 
the  village  church.  At  this  conference  Clark's  bold 
determination  again  won,  and  next  morning  Fort 
Sackville  was  surrendered,  with  all  its  stores  and 
supplies,  and  General  Hamilton  and  his  garrison  be- 
came prisoners  of  war. 

This  was  on  the  twenty-fifth  day  of  February, 
1779.  It  is  a  date  deserving  enrollment  among 
eventful  days  of  American  history.  Henceforth  the 
Northwest  was  Virginia  territory,  until  ceded  by  her 
to  the  Union.  In  the  negotiations  which  preceded 
the  final  treaty  with  England,  it  was  this  fact  —  that 
Virginia  troops  had  fought  for,  and  conquered  the 
right  bank  of  the  Mississippi  —  which  gave  potency 
to  the  claim  of  our  commissioners,  that  the  Father  of 
Waters  and  not  the  Alleghanies,  or  the  Ohio,  was 
our  rightful  boundary  line  on  the  west. 

Among  our  Revolutionary  heroes,  George  Rogers 
Clark  should  stand  high,  not  only  because  of  his 
daring  and  his  achievements,  but  because  of  the  im- 
portant and  far-reaching  results  of  his  conquest. 

In  the  last  few  years,  observing  the  rapidity  with 
which  our  vast  Western  territory  is  being  settled  and 
civilized,  noting  the  rapid  increase  of  its  population 
and  prosperity,  I  begin  to  set  a  true  value  upon  the 
importance  of  this  territory  to  the  republic.  Not 
only  has  it  given  us  room  for  necessary  expansion, 
but  it  has  quickened  all  our  energies,  kindled  our 
imaginations,  and  furnished  a  safe  outlet  for  the 


246  DONALD  MCELROY 

vigorous,  throbbing  life  of  our  young  nation.  More- 
over, there  is  no  way  to  calculate  the  important  part 
this  common  territory  has  played  in  uniting,  into  a 
firm  and  reasonable  union,  the  several  States  of 
America.  It  gave  us  a  common  interest,  at  a  time 
when  we  thought  our  state  interests  divergent;  fur- 
nished us  a  means  of  satisfying  with  land  grants  our 
discontented  and  unpaid  soldiers;  and  is  teaching  us, 
through  experience  learned  in  governing  a  joint  pos- 
session, broad  principles  of  democratic  government. 
In  truth,  the  more  I  think  upon  it,  the  more  highly 
I  rate  the  achievement  of  George  Rogers  Clark  — 
in  which  those  of  my  race  bore  a  worthy  part. 

"  Since  fate  has  not  ended  our  rivalry  for  us,  Mc- 
Elroy,"  said  Clark  —  when  affairs  had  been  satisfac- 
torily settled  at  Vincennes,  Helm  reinstated  with  a 
somewhat  larger  garrison,  and  the  other  troops 
ready  to  return  to  Kaskaskia  — "  the  decision  rests 
still  with  Queen  Eleanor.  We  must  force  her  to  a 
choice,  somehow,  and  certainty  is  preferable  to  this 
suspense." 

"  The  sooner  we  know  her  decision  the  better  I 
shall  be  suited,"  I  responded,  "  for,  now  that  my 
year's  parole  has  expired,  I  am  eager  to  get  back  to 
the  regular  service,  especially  as  reinforcements 
from  Virginia  can  now  be  counted  upon.  More- 
over, you  are  not  likely  to  need  a  large  force  to 
enable  you  to  hold  what  we  have  won." 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  replied  Clark.  "  You  have 
stood  by  me  and  the  enterprise,  like  a  brave  man, 
and  a  true  comrade,  McElroy,  and  I  am  glad  our 
business  is  finished  before  your  duty  calls  you  back  to 
Virginia.  You  have  been  my  right  hand,  though  all 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  247 

my  officers  and  men  have  alike  acquitted  themselves 
nobly,  from  first  to  last." 

"  With  a  leader  such  as  we  have  had,  only  worthy 
conduct  is  possible,"  I  said,  my  eyes  suddenly  dim. 

"  Thank  you  for  that  word,  M'cElroy.  That 
worthy  men  should  deem  me  a  worthy  leader,  is  all 
the  praise  I  ask.  And  whatever  may  come  between 
us  in  the  future,  comrade,  let  us  not  forget  that  we 
have  stood  together  in  peril  and  in  suffering,  have 
shared  risks  and  dangers  in  a  cause  dear  to  the  hearts 
of  both  —  not  even  the  love  of  woman  should  sepa- 
rate comrades  such  as  we  have  been." 

"  Nor  shall  it,"  I  answered  earnestly.  "  God  bear 
me  witness,  Clark,  that  I  shall  feel  no  malice  should 
Ellen's  heart  answer  to  yours.  I  shall  wish  you  both 
happiness  in  all  sincerity,  and  seek  solace  in  my 
duty." 

"  No  fear,  McElroy;  you  have  the  sturdiest  and 
best  traits  of  a  noble  people.  I  have  some  of  them, 
doubtless,  as  my  Saxon  blood  gives  me  right,  but 
mixed,  I  fear,  with  a  strain  of  wildness.  I  doubt  if 
the  anchors  of  duty  are  strong  enough  to  hold  me  to 
a  wise,  sane  life  —  unless  Ellen's  love  shall  help  to 
weight  them.  As  you  have  said,  comrade,  an  adven- 
turous, reckless  life  has  strong  temptation  for  me; 
therefore,  if  Ellen's  love  is  not  for  me  —  and  I  fore- 
bode it  is  not,  though  I'm  not  yet  ready  to  resign  all 
Hope  —  I  shall  take  it  for  a  sign  that  a  kind  fate  is 
sparing  her  the  woeful  doom  of  a  drunkard's  wife." 
He  added,  after  a  brief  pause,  during  which  a  deep 
melancholy  settled  upon  his  face,  "  Sometimes  a  man 
is  doomed  from  his  birth;  from  the  beginning  he 
moves  on  to  a  prefixed  destiny,  and  all  his  struggles 


248  DONALD  MCELROY 

to  save  himself  from  the  end  he  fears,  avail  noth- 
ing." 

My  reply  combatted  Clark's  fatalism  with  all  the 
arguments  I  could  command,  but  I  soon  saw  that  his 
views  on  the  subject  of  his  destiny  were  fixed;  that 
with  all  his  cheerful  courage,  and  calculating  bold- 
ness, there  was  in  his  nature  that  strange  vein  of 
superstition  or  fatalism  which  has  marked  so  many 
military  heroes : —  Hannibal,  Alexander,  Caesar, 
Robert  Bruce,  Frederick  the  Great,  and  others  less 
renowned.  Nor  can  one  lay  the  fatalistic  views 
Clark  held  to  the  charge  of  his  religion.  Though 
Scotch-Irish  by  birth,  he  knew  no  more  of  Presby- 
terian doctrines  than  did  Father  Gibault,  and  he  had 
no  religious  principles. 

Clark,  as  I  have  said,  was  a  fatalist,  though  he 
had  no  religion.  I  was  and  am  a  Presbyterian,  yet 
I  have  always  believed  in  cause  and  effect,  the  work- 
ing of  natural  laws  to  natural  ends.  Nevertheless, 
though  it  be  apparently  a  contradiction,  I  believe  in 
an  overruling  Providence,  and  the  care  of  God  over 
the  most  insignificant  of  His  creatures.  Therefore, 
when  I  knew  myself  to  be  ill,  on  that  last  day  of  our 
return  march,  and  said  to  Clark,  "  It  seems,  after 
all,  comrade,  as  if  fate  meant  to  settle  this  matter- 
of  rivalry  between  us,"  I  meant  it  not  as  it  was  said, 
but  as  Clark  might  look  upon  it.  My  future  lay,  I 
knew,  in  God's  hands,  and  even  in  that  hour  of  evil 
apprehension  —  for  I  realized  that  my  illness  would 
be  a  long  and  serious  one  —  I  felt  satisfied  to  leave 
it  there,  and  to  trust  my  life  and  Ellen's  to  His 
guidance. 

A  faith  that  can  sustain  a  man,  and  leave  him  calm 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  249 

and  undismayed  in  each  crisis  of  his  life,  is  worth 
much  to  him  —  call  it  by  what  name  or  sect,  distin- 
guish it  by  whatsoever  creed,  you  will.  And  these 
small  variations  of  our  small  minds,  are,  I  conceive, 
little  taken  into  account  by  the  Infinite,  who  knows 
we  are  but  children,  in  mental  and  spiritual  develop- 
ment, and  values  our  faith  and  our  honest  striving 
without  regard  to  the  creeds  with  which  we  confuse 
ourselves. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Beyond  this  comforting  assurance  of  my  religion, 
there  was  but  one  idea  floating  through  my  confused 
and  fever-consumed  brain,  and  that  was  a  longing 
vision  rather  than  an  idea  —  a  vision  of  my  moth- 
er's downy,  rose-scented  beds;  and  then,  as  next  best, 
of  the  heaps  of  feathers,  covered  with  gay  Indian 
blankets,  which  constituted  the  pride  of  the  Kaskas- 
kian  homes.  Oh,  to  feel  a  thick  pillow  under  my 
head,  to  stretch  my  aching  limbs  on  the  yielding 
feathers !  It  was  the  one  thing  in  life  I  wanted.  I 
longed  for  rest  as  a  tired  infant  longs  for  his  moth- 
er's soft  breast,  and  tender  arms.  The  hope  of  it 
alone  gave  me  courage  to  drag  my  weighted  feet 
over  the  last  two  miles  of  our  way. 

It  was  a  little  strange  that  the  realization  of  the 
bliss  of  repose  was  my  first  conscious  thought  after 
an  illness  of  many  days,  so  that  I  could  never  realize 
that  more  than  a  night  had  intervened  between  the 
longing  and  the  realization,  the  agony  and  the  relief. 
My  first  conscious  moment  lasted  just  long  enough 
for  me  to  appreciate  the  comfort  of  my  couch;  al- 
most immediately  I  sank  again  into  sleep  or  uncon- 
sciousness. The  next  time  I  came  to  myself  I  was 
not  only  wide  awake,  but  alert  and  curious  as  I 
opened  my  eyes  to  note  my  surroundings.  They 
were  rough  limed  walls  with  a  low  sloping  ceiling; 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  251 

bright-hued  Indian  rugs  were  upon  the  floor,  and 
half-burned  logs  on  heavy  dog-irons,  with  sputtering 
candle  encjs,  burning  upon  a  round  stand,  in  the  far- 
thest corner.  In  the  shadow  of  the  corner  sat  a 
figure,  its  head  against  the  wall.  Some  one  had 
been  good  enough  to  sit  up  all  the  night  with  me, 
and  now  that  day  was  breaking,  his  eyes  could  be 
kept  open  no  longer,  and  he  had  fallen  into  a  doze. 
I  would  be  very  quiet  and  not  wake  him. 

Presently  the  figure  stirred,  rose  and  came  to  the 
bedside.  I  recognized  Clark,  even  in  the  dimness  of 
the  gray  dawn. 

"You  have  been  watching  me,  my  Colonel?"  I 
questioned,  trying  to  smile,  and  to  put  out  the  hand 
that  was  too  feeble  to  answer  to  my  will.  Clark 
came  closer,  saw  my  purpose,  gave  my  hand  a  warm 
pressure,  and  lifted  me  a  little  higher  on  my  pillows. 

"  Have  I  been  very  ill?  "  I  asked. 

"  You  have  been  near  enough  the  happy  hunting 
ground  to  know  the  way,  my  lad.  But,  thank  God, 
you  are  better,  and  will  live  long  enough,  I  trust,  to 
forget  the  route  before  you  take  another  journey  in 
that  direction." 

"Where  are  we?" 

"  In  Kaskaskia,  in  one  of  the  loft  rooms  of  the 
Commandant's  house." 

"Is  Ellen  below?" 

"  Yes,  and  asleep,  I  hope;  she  and  Angelique  tend 
you  by  day,  Legere,  Givens  and  I  by  night;  but  you 
must  not  talk  yet  a  while;  that's  Dr.  Lafonte's  or- 
ders. Drink  this  and  go  to  sleep." 

I  obeyed  like  a  child,  settling  myself  deeper  in  the 
feathers,  with  a  sigh  of  content. 


252  DONALD  MCELROY 

Upon  my  third  awaking,  I  recognized  Ellen's 
voice,  and  felt  her  soft  hand  upon  my  brow. 

"  Ellen !  "  I  whispered,  and  opened  my  eyes  to 
look  at  the  face  bending  above  mine  with  the  rapture 
a  saint  might  feel  upon  seeing  some  beatific  vision, 
long  prayed  for. 

"  Do  not  talk,  Cousin  Donald,"  she  said,  beam- 
ing a  smile  of  cheerful  affection  upon  me ;  "  Dr.  La- 
fonte  says  you  must  be  very  quiet  for  a  few  days 
more." 

I  managed,  despite  my  weakness,  to  get  hold  of 
her  hand,  and  clung  to  it  feebly.  "  I  will  be  per- 
fectly quiet,"  I  answered  in  tones  so  weak  that  I 
wondered  if  it  could  be  really  I  who  was  speaking, 
"  if  you  will  sit  beside  me  and  hold  my  hand." 

She  smiled,  flushed  a  little,  and  as  she  held  a  glass 
of  cordial  to  my  lips  said  coaxingly,  "  If  you'll  drink 
this  and  go  to  sleep,  I  will."  Then  she  sat  down 
beside  me,  and  held  my  nerveless  fingers  in  her  warm, 
soft  clasp,  till  I  was  dreaming  an  odd  jumble  of 
pleasant  visions  through  all  of  which  flitted  Ellen's 
face  and  form. 

This  sort  of  half  dream  life  went  on  I  know  not 
how  long.  I  only  remember  an  incident  here  and 
there  —  floating  faces,  cups  held  to  my  lips,  and  then 
the  pleasant  drifting  off  into  long  periods  of  dream- 
less rest.  At  last  I  was  strong  enough  to  sit  part  of 
each  day  in  a  high-backed  chair,  and  after  that  I  saw 
little  of  Ellen.  She  came  twice  each  day  for  a  brief 
visit,  but  Angelique  brought  my  broth  and  wine, 
helped  me  from  bed  to  chair,  smoothed  my  pillows, 
and  sometimes  sang  me  to  sleep  with  wild,  sweet 
Acadian  ballads.  Clark  came  in  and  out  with 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  253 

cheery  presence,  and  encouraging  words  —  but  now 
that  summer  had  come  again  he  had  more  affairs  to 
administer,  and  so  less  time  to  give  me.  Givens 
would  linger,  though,  when  he  came  on  his  daily 
visit,  to  tell  me  the  gossip  of  the  village,  of  which 
the  half  wild,  half  drowsy  life  suited  him  well. 
Legere  and  others  visited  me  almost  daily,  and  my 
monotonous  life  was  not  a  lonely  one,  though  forced 
inaction  grew  more  and  more  irksome  as  my  strength 
returned. 

"  Clark,"  I  said  to  him  one  day,  "  I  can't  stand 
this  suspense  any  longer.  I  want  to  know  all,  even 
if  it  be  the  worst.  Since  I  am  better,  Ellen  comes 
in  only  when  others  are  here,  and  makes  prompt 
excuses  to  get  away.  Her  kindness  is  barely  cous- 
inly. And  you  too  seem  to  avoid  being  left  alone 
with  me.  Have  you  spoken  to  Ellen?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  spoken  —  though  to  do  so,  com- 
ported not  fairly  with  our  compact.  But  my  feel- 
ings overmastered  me.  I  have  avoided  telling  you 
till  you  should  be  stronger." 

"  I  am  strong  enough  now,"  I  answered,  though  I 
trembled  from  head  to  foot;  "tell  me  all — and 
quickly." 

"  It  was  one  evening  when  we  thought  you  dying. 
I  followed  her  from  the  room,  and  was  moved  to 
tell  her  your  last  words  to  me  —  when  you  left  her 
to  my  care,  and  bade  me  give  her  perfect  freedom 
in  the  disposition  of  her  life,  but  left  us  your  bless- 
ing could  she  love  me  enough  to  link  her  fate  with 
mine.  She  wept  afresh  at  the  recital  of  your  words; 
and  then  with  friendly  candor  there  was  no  mis- 
taking, thanked  me  for  my  love,  and  accepted  my 


254  DONALD  McELROY 

offer  of  protection,  even  while  she  told  me  that 
whether  you  lived  or  died  there  was  no  hope  for  me. 
Her  quiet  decision  awed  me,  and  forced  back  all  the 
protestations  I  had  formulated  against  her  vow  of 
nunnery.  She  declared  it  was  no  rash  or  hasty  one, 
made  to  be  repented  of,  but  that  she  held  it  to  be 
more  sacred  and  binding  than  any  other  claim  upon 
her  heart  and  life,  and  that  she  waited  only  for  your 
restoration  to  health  to  go,  under  Father  Gibault's 
escort,  and  yours,  if  you  would,  to  the  convent  at 
Quebec." 

"  Comrade,"  I  said,  putting  out  my  shaking  hand 
to  clasp  his,  "  that  is  not  the  news  I  expected  —  but 
it  is  much  more  distressing  to  me." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  wrong  to  tell  you,  and  am  but 
making  the  harder  for  you  the  final  disappointment," 
continued  Clark  after  a  silence  of  some  moments, 
during  which  he  seemed  to  be  thinking  deeply,  "  but 
I  am  not  convinced  that  Ellen  looks  forward  to  the 
life  of  a  nun.  I  believe  she  once  made  a  foolish  vow 
and  thinks  it  sacrilege  to  break  it.  And  if  I  can 
read  a  woman's  heart  through  her  face,  McElroy, 
Ellen  O'Neil  feels  for  you  a  tenderness  that  is 
neither  usual  nor  natural  for  a  woman  to  feel  to- 
wards one  she  regards  only  as  a  distant  kinsman.  I 
believe  she  loves  you  —  yet  I  cannot  honestly  say  I 
think  you  will  win  her.  Her  will  is  strong,  and  her 
religion  has  so  far  been  the  dominant  principle  of 
her  life.  One  side  of  her  nature  is  fitted  to  the 
martyr's  role,  the  other  side  is  strongly  human  — 
throbs  with  the  full  current  of  youth,  loves  daring 
and  doing,  experiencing  and  enjoying,  even  as  you 
and  I.  Which  part  of  her  complex  nature  will  tri- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  255 

umph  I  cannot  foresee.  This  I  can  say  honestly, 
comrade,"  and  Clark  laid  a  hand  upon  my  knee,  and 
his  truth-speaking  eyes  looked  straight  into  mine, 
"  even  with  my  own  grievous  disappointment  fresh 
upon  me,  I  would  see  Ellen  the  happy  and  joy-giving 
wife  of  my  true-hearted  friend  with  delight,  com- 
pared to  the  feeling  with  which  I  shall  see  her  the 
self-immolated  *  bride  of  the  church  ' —  which  is,  in 
my  opinion,  but  another  name  for  victim  to  super- 
stition and  priestly  tyranny.  The  fates  grant  that 
you  may  win  her,  McElroy." 

An  hour  I  sat  in  deep  thought  —  then  I  made  my 
vow.  If  in  Ellen's  heart  there  dwelt  but  the  weak- 
est germ  of  love  for  me,  it  should  grow  on  until  it 
uprooted  all  other  influences.  I  bade  the  whole 
Roman  Church  defiance.  A  girl's  superstition  to 
come  between  Ellen  and  her  life's  fulfillment?  be- 
tween me  and  lifelong  happiness  ?  I  swore  it  should 
not  be!  She  should  love  me  more  and  more  till 
love  mastered  her,  choking  superstition  and  conquer- 
ing her  will.  Once  convinced,  she  would  see  it  all 
as  I  did,  and  be  glad  all  her  life  that  I  had  saved 
her  from  a  fatal  mistake.  I  girded  myself  afresh 
for  the  conflict,  as  it  were,  each  hour  of  the  days  that 
followed,  and  planned  my  campaign  against  a  maid- 
en's heart  as  carefully  as  a  general  plans  an  advance 
into  the  enemy's  country.  My  first  move  must  be  to 
keep  her  from  reaching  a  final  decision  as  long  as  pos- 
sible ;  my  second  to  take  her,  upon  some  pretext,  back 
to  the  valley  with  me. 

Meanwhile  I  hastened  my  recovery  by  every  means 
possible,  watching  impatiently  the  summer  moving 
on  to  autumn.  From  my  window  I  could  see  the 


256  DONALD  McELROY 

slow,  gliding  river,  glancing  in  the  sun's  rays,  and 
the  stagnant,  spreading  bayous,  gay  with  spotted 
lilies,  and  fringed  with  swaying  grasses,  while  birds, 
as  gayly  colored  as  the  blossoms,  rode  blithely  upon 
the  springy  reeds.  The  meadows  were  green  with 
waving  corn,  or  yellow  with  the  ripened  grass,  and 
the  rich  odor  of  the  wild  grapes  came  upon  the 
breeze  with  other  and  more  elusive  fragrances.  But 
gliding  river,  reed-fringed  bayou,  and  luxuriant 
meadow,  were  not  half  so  fair  to  my  real  vision  as 
the  dear  valley  to  my  imaginary  one.  I  longed  to 
see  the  undulating  blue  ranges,  and  the  varied  land- 
scape, with  the  comfortable  farmhouses  dotted  over 
it.  I  was  eager  to  be  off  for  home,  to  hear  the  late 
news  from  the  war,  and  to  bear  Ellen  away  from 
Romish  influences. 

At  last  spirit  could  wait  the  body's  leisure  no 
longer,  and  though  still  weak  and  emaciated,  I  made 
a  firm  resolve  to  start  for  home  within  a  week  or 
two.  Then  I  sent  Angelique  with  a  message  to 
Ellen,  demanding  a  private  interview. 

"  Your  message  is  earnest,  almost  peremptory, 
Cousin  Donald,"  said  Ellen,  coming  in  with  a  play- 
ful smile  on  her  lips;  "  am  I  to  have  another  scold- 
ing, and  for  what?  My  conscience  acquits  me  this 
time ;  I  have  stopped  coquetting  with  the  officers,  or 
walking  alone  without  the  village ;  therefore  I  know 
not  what  wrong  I  have  done  to  deserve  a  kinsman's 
reprimand." 

'  'Tis  not  to  scold,  but  to  entreat  that  I  have  sent 
for  you,  Ellen,"  I  replied.  "  Will  you  sit  down 
here  before  me,  and  give  me  your  serious  attention 
for  a  brief  while?"  Perhaps  it  was  the  tone  of 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  257 

my  voice,  or  it  may  have  been  that  my  face  betrayed 
me,  for  Ellen  flushed  and  dropped  her  lids  an  instant 
over  her  eyes,  as  she  took  the  chair  I  had  indicated, 
yet  saying  with  an  air  of  banter : 

"  My  '  serious  attention,'  Cousin  Donald?  You 
plead  for  it  as  if  'twere  a  rare  favor,  and  one  most 
difficult  to  obtain;  —  am  I  so  seldom  serious?  " 

"  Two  weeks  from  to-day,  Ellen,  I  start  back  to 
Virginia,"  ignoring  her  playful  manner;  "my  duty 
calls  me  thither;  but  I  cannot  leave  you  here  in  Kas- 
kaskia  without  lawful  guardian  or  protector.  You 
have  long  known,  Ellen,  that  I  love  you  with  my 
whole  being,  that  the  dearest  and  most  sacred  wish 
of  my  heart  is  to  make  you  my  wife.  Will  you 
marry  me,  Ellen,  and  go  back  to  Virginia  to  a  home 
of  your  own,  with  the  protection  and  constant  devo- 
tion of  one  whose  whole  life  shall  be  dedicated  to 
your  happiness?  " 

The  flush  on  Ellen's  cheeks  leaped  upward  to  her 
brow  in  a  flame  of  crimson;  her  eyes  grew  darker; 
and  upon  her  face  came  a  look  of  mingled  sorrow, 
yearning  and  resolve. 

"  Oh,  my  cousin,  have  I  not  said  it  often  enough," 
with  the  sob-suggesting  catch,  vibrating  like  harp 
tones  through  her  words  — "  that  never  can  I  be  wife 
to  any  man?  Do  even  you  believe  that  all  this  time 
I  have  been  jesting  on  a  subject  so  sacred  —  that  I 
have  but  used  pretense  of  holy  calling  as  a  coquettish 
wile  to  lure  men  on  ?  Yet  how  can  I  find  fault  with 
you  for  having  thought  so,  since  my  life  has  so  belied 
my  words?  I  have  been  naught  but  a  frivolous  co- 
quette these  months  past  —  as  if  I  would  get  all  of 
worldly  triumph,  and  food  for  vanity  possible  out 


258  DONALD  McELROY 

of  my  life,  during  the  respite  which  circumstances 
have  afforded  me  from  the  fulfillment  of  my  vow. 
Mine  has  been  lip  service,  only,  not  yet  have  I  known 
true  heart  consecration.  But  I  will  know  it,  Don- 
ald, will  possess  the  true  nun's  heart,  if  all  of  self 
must  be  immolated  by  hourly  chastisement  and  self- 
denial  to  achieve  it.  I  have  solemnly  pledged  my 
life  to  prayer,  and  penance,  and  holy  service.  Will 
not  you,  Cousin  Donald,  my  only  friend  and  pro- 
tector, my  one  source  of  human  strength,  help  me 
to  keep  my  vow  to  God?  "  and  she  clasped  her  hands 
in  passionate  entreaty,  and  lifted  moist  eyes  and 
trembling  lips  to  my  serious  gaze. 

"  Dear  Ellen !  "  and  I  spoke  with  a  new  emotion 
of  respect  for  the  depth  of  her  feeling,  "  I  want 
more  than  aught  else  to  help  you,  but  I  do  not  fully 
understand,  nor  see  the  reason  for  your  being  so 
determined,  and  feeling  so  strongly  —  will  you  not 
tell  me  all,  so  that  I  can'  better  understand  you  ? 
When  was  this  vow  you  speak  of  made?  " 

"  That  bitter  night  I  was  lost  upon  the  mountain, 
when,  numb  with  cold,  and  shaken  with  terror  of  the 
wolves  pursuing  us,  I  fell  from  the  rearing  horse, 
frightened  too  by  the  wild  beasts,  and  lay  there  in 
agony  of  fear  and  pain,  through  long  hours,  listening 
to  the  wolves,  as  they  chased  the  poor  horse,  and 
each  moment  expecting  to  feel  their  fangs  in  my  flesh. 
I  prayed  as  never  I  had  prayed  before,  to  the  Holy 
Virgin  and  her  sacred  Son,  promising  to  consecrate 
all  the  rest  of  my  life  to  prayer  and  humble  service, 
in  some  rigorous  convent,  if  they  would  send  me 
deliverance  from  a  violent  death.  Even  as  I  prayed 
I  fell  into  sleep,  or  unconsciousness,  and  awoke  in 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  259 

Father  Givens'  house.  He  nursed  me  back  to  health, 
and  I  had  it  in  my  mind  to  induce  him  to  take  me  to 
Baltimore  to  the  Convent  of  the  Sacred  Heart,  had 
you  not  come  by  with  the  message  from  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son. I  saw  the  scout's  desire  was  to  go  with  you, 
and  I  would  not  stand  between  him  and  his  wish. 
Already  he  had  done  too  much  for  a  willful  girl  who 
had  no  claim  upon  his  charities,  save  the  claim  of 
common  humanity.  I  gave  all  my  energies  to  per- 
suading him  that  a  life  of  adventure  appealed  to  me 
even  more  strongly  than  the  life  of  a  convent  re- 
treat, and  so  fed  his  inclination  to  join  in  the  adven- 
ture that  he  could  not  resist  it.  At  last  he  consented 
to  purchase  for  me  the  coveted  disguise  as  his  foster 
son,  and  when  once  he  had  seen  me  wear  it,  and 
watched  my  rifle  practice,  he  grew  interested  in  my 
plans,  and  made  no  further  difficulty. 

"  For  the  first  weeks  I  was  buoyed  by  the  spirit  of 
excitement,  and  enjoyed  the  free,  outdoor  life  I  had 
been  accustomed  to  as  a  child.  Not  until  you  and 
Thomas  joined  us  did  I  realize  the  boldness  of  my 
deed.  I  dreaded  to  have  you  find  me  out,  yet  I 
could  not  bear  to  be  left  behind  in  Kentucky.  What 
the  result  might  be  haunted  my  thoughts  and  my 
dreams.  Again  I  added  daily  vows  to  daily  prayers. 
Were  I  safely  delivered  once  more,  delivered  from 
the  coil  of  questionable  circumstances  with  which  I 
had  rashly  surrounded  myself,  I  would  without  delay, 
find  my  way  to  some  peaceful  convent  and  atone  for 
all  my  willful  past  by  years  of  devout  consecration. 
You  know  how  wonderfully  I  was  delivered  —  was 
spared  even  blame  or  question;  how  fortunately  I 
have  since  been  placed. 


260  DONALD  McELROY 

"  Were  not  all  my  prayers  heard  and  answered? 
Dare  I  then  break  my  vows  —  lie  to  the  holy  Virgin 
and  her  sacred  Son?  Accept  divine  deliverance,  and 
repay  with  broken  promises,  violated  oaths  ?  Could 
you  love  and  trust  a  wife  who  would  come  to  you 
with  a  sacrilege  upon  her  conscience?  " 

"My  dear  one!  "  answering  her  solemnly,  as  she 
had  spoken,  and  taking  the  fluttering  fingers  firmly  in 
my  own  to  still  them;  "  I  will  not  ask  you  to  violate 
a  vow  you  regard  so  sacredly.  I  will  live  all  my 
life  with  an  unsatisfied  longing,  an  aching,  hungry 
heart,  rather  than  to  say  one  word  to  urge  you 
against  your  conscience.  But  I  think  you  reason  and 
feel  morbidly.  Is  there  no  other  life  of  consecra- 
tion to  God's  service  for  a  woman  than  that  to  be 
found  behind  convent  walls?  Think  you  the  life  of 
wife  and  mother  less  holy,  less  self-sacrificing,  of  less 
savory  incense  to  God  than  that  of  a  nun? 

"  What  service  can  a  nun  render  to  God  that  a 
consecrated  wife  and  mother  may  not  offer  Him? 
Prayer?  Does  not  the  wife  pray  with  added  fervor 
—  for  herself,  that  she  may  live  a  worthy  exemplar 
to  those  she  loves  —  for  them,  with  more  earnest 
zeal  because  love  prompts  each  petition  —  and  for 
all  the  world  more  fervently  because  those  she  lives 
for  are  a  part  of  it.  Deeds  of  unselfish  charity? 
Are  they  less  in  God's  sight,  believe  you,  than  the 
daily  immolation  of  her  own  wishes  which  each  true 
wife  practices  upon  the  altar  of  domestic  duty.  And 
what  need  we  most  in  this  new  world?  Is  it  not 
consecrated  men  and  women  to  spend  all  the  powers 
of  their  being  for  peace,  purity  and  enlightenment? 
We  hope  to  found  in  this  virgin  land  a  wondrous 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  261 

republic  where  freedom  of  conscience  and  equal  op- 
portunities will  be  offered  to  the  downtrodden  of  all 
nations.  But  we  may  not  hope  to  perpetuate  such 
republic,  unless  there  be  noble  women  —  women  of 
the  unusual  intelligence  and  gifts  with  which  God  has 
honored  you  —  to  strive  with  us  toward  that  ideal." 

"  There  is  truth  in  most  you  say,  Donald,"  a  glow 
answering  mine  on  her  face,  her  hands  still  and  warm 
now  in  mine;  "you  move  me  always  by  your  calm 
reasoning.  Yet  I  am  bound  by  my  vow.  Did  I  let 
my  selfish  inclinations  plead,  I  might  easily  persuade 
myself  that  your  logic  is  as  true  for  me  as  it  would 
be  for  another,  not  so  solemnly  pledged  as  I  am. 
But  the  very  leaning  of  desire  warns  me  to  guard 
my  sacred  promises  the  more  sturdily  against  temp- 
tation." In  her  earnestness  she  did  not  realize  the 
half  confession  she  had  made,  but  my  heart  leaped 
within  me,  and  a  quiver  of  joy  thrilled  to  my  finger 
tips. 

"  Tell  me,  Ellen,"  and  I  held  her  hands  in  a 
tighter  clasp,  and  claimed  the  full  gaze  of  her  eyes, 
"  had  you  never  made  this  vow,  could  you  consent 
to  be  my  wife  —  would  there  have  been  hope  of  hap- 
piness for  me?  " 

"  Oh,  Donald !  "  a  cry  of  entreaty,  following  the 
blush  that  swam  upward  to  the  roots  of  her  hair,  "  it 
is  not  fair  to  ask  me  —  you  have  promised  to  help 
me  —  you  should  not  make  my  duty  so  hard  —  so 
very  hard  for  me." 

I  kissed  the  hands  now  cold  and  trembling  again, 
not  with  passion,  but  with  reverence  on  my  lips,  and 
laid  them  gently  on  her  knee;  then  said,  with  a 
mighty  effort  at  self-control  — ?  for  I  would  have 


262  DONALD  MCELROY 

given  the  world  to  take  her  in  my  arms,  and  dared 
hope  she  would  find  it  hard  to  resist  me : 

"  Forgive  me,  Ellen;  I  will  ask  you  nothing;  you 
shall  follow  your  duty  as  you  see  it.  If  you  feel 
your  promise  binds  you  to  the  utmost  self-sacrifice,  I 
shall  use  no  power  your  confidence  has  given  me  to 
persuade  you  from  your  duty.  But  why  should  you 
remain  in  this  wilderness  unprotected  —  for  I  must 
needs  follow  my  soldier's  duty  back  to  Virginia  — 
waiting  the  uncertain  chance  of  safe  convoy  to  Que- 
bec, when  you  could  go  under  my  escort  to  the  valley, 
stay  there  with  your  lawful  protectors  till  the  war  is 
over,  and  then  be  escorted  by  them,  with  due  consent 
and  proper  honor  to  your  chosen  retreat  in  Balti- 
more ?  There  you  will  not  only  have  wider  sphere 
of  usefulness  among  people  of  your  own  race  and 
language,  but  you  will  be  near  your  parents'  graves 
and  in  reach  of  your  relatives,  should  they  need  you, 
or  you  them.  There  I  might  even  visit  you  some- 
times —  it  would  be  a  consolation  and  a  joy  had  I 
only  the  happiness  to  hold  your  hand  an  instant,  and 
to  catch  the  old  dear  smile  through  the  grating  of 
convent  bars. 

"  Moreover,  Ellen,  though  I  say  this  not  in  harsh- 
ness, you  would  feel,  I  think,  surer  of  God's  blessing 
on  your  sacrifice  if  you  were  to  enter  your  holy  life 
at  peace  with  all  men  —  without  bitterness  in  your 
heart  toward  the  unfaithful  guardians  to  whom  your 
parents  left  you." 

"  That  thought  has  troubled  me,"  said  Ellen,  tears 
springing  to  her  eyes,  and  making  a  soft  film  over 
their  velvet  blueness;  "  it  does  not  seem  meet  for  me 
to  take  the  sacred  veil  with  a  spirit  unforgiving  and 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  263 

unforgiven.  I  would  welcome  the  opportunity  to 
beg  Uncle  Thomas'  forgiveness,  and  to  apologize  to 
Aunt  Martha  for  my  willfulness.  I  had  no  wish, 
believe  me,  Donald,  to  cause  them  suffering.  I 
thought  to  relieve  Uncle  Thomas  of  an  obstacle  to 
his  domestic  happiness,  and  Aunt  Martha  of  a  source 
of  much  annoyance.  Remorse  has  pursued  me  since 
I  knew  of  Thomas'  following  me,  that  he  was  will- 
ing to  desert  his  parents  and  his  religion  for  me.  I 
made  what  reparation  I  could  by  sending  him  back 
to  them,  and  his  nature  is  not  one  to  grieve  long. 
If  you,  Cousin  Donald,  would  but  carry  to  them  my 
repentance,  and  obtain  their  forgiveness,  and  their 
consent  to  my  taking  the  veil,  I  might  be  able  to  do 
sufficient  penance  for  my  other  sins." 

"  The  truest  reparation  you  can  make  them,  Ellen, 
the  one  they  would  most  value,  and  which  will  alone 
relieve  them  from  the  reproach  of  their  consciences, 
and  the  odium  of  their  neighbors,  will  be  to  go  back 
with  me,  live  in  peace  and  amity  with  them  for  a 
time,  and  go  from  them  in  kindness  to  your  convent 
seclusion." 

"  It  is  indeed  a  cup  of  humbling  you  would  hold  to 
my  lips,"  said  Ellen,  paling  suddenly — "  yet  doubt- 
less I  need  to  drink  of  that  very  cup.  Pride,  I  think, 
is  my  besetting  sin." 

"  Pride  and  love  of  your  own  will,  Ellen, —  un- 
seemly faults  for  a  fair  and  gentle  woman  —  yet 
offset  by  rare  virtues." 

"  Do  not  flatter  me,  Donald;  let  me  face  the  truth; 
in  showing  me  my  real  self,  you  are  my  truest  friend. 
Pride  and  self-will !  when  I  should  possess  '  a  meek 
and  quiet  spirit,'  and  '  an  humble  and  a  contrite 


264  DONALD  MCELROY 

heart '  before  I  shall  be  ready  for  my  holy  calling." 
"  May  it  not  be,  Ellen,  that  you  are  mistaking 
your  determination  to  fulfill  a  rash  vow,  made  under 
exciting  circumstances,  for  a  true  call  founded  on 
real  consecration  of  heart  and  spirit?  Talk  with 
Father  Gibault;  he  is  a  holy  man,  yet  a  just  and 
reasonable  one ;  tell  him  all,  and  ask  him  to  help  you 
to  determine  your  path  of  duty.  Then  come  and 
tell  me  your  decision  — •  and  with  God's  help,  dear 
one,  I  will  add  to  yours  all  my  strength  and  courage, 
to  enable  you  to  follow  where  your  conscience  leads 
you.  But  oh,  Ellen,  will  you  not  tell  me  once,  just 
once,  that  you  do  love  me,  and  would  give  yourself  to 
me  if  you  were  free?  " 

"Donald!  Donald!  you  must  not  disturb  my 
soul  by  such  entreaties !  "  she  cried  in  pleading  tones. 
"  Do  you  not  see  that  if  once  it  were  said,  it  could 
never  again  be  unsaid?  "  and  she  left  me  hastily,  her 
head  drooping  like  a  flower  upon  its  stalk. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

What  if  Father  Gibault's  priestly  zeal  should 
prove  stronger  than  the  common  sense,  and  sound 
humanity,  I  credited  him  with  ?  What  if  he  should 
conclude  that  the  immolation  of  two  lives  was  neces- 
sary to  the  saving  of  one  soul?  Should  strengthen 
Ellen's  superstition  as  to  the  sacred  obligation  of  her 
impulsive  vow?  Well!  in  that  case  I  should  have 
two  strong  forces  to  war  against,  Ellen's  supersti- 
tion, and  a  priest's  influence.  But  I  had  no  thought 
of  resigning  Ellen  until  the  authority  of  the  Roman 
Church  had  put  her  forever  beyond  reach  of  my 
hopes.  She  had  been  created  for  love,  and  happi- 
ness, for  the  duties  and  ties  of  earth;  once  the  fervor 
of  self-sacrifice  had  exhausted  itself,  she  would  be 
miserable  in  a  convent.  I  thought  I  knew  her  nature 
better  than  she  understood  it,  and  meant  to  save  her 
from  self-immolation  for  a  happier  life,  and  one,  I 
truly  believed,  not  less  holy  in  God's  sight.  As  im- 
patient as  I  was  to  take  once  more  my  part  in  the 
struggle  waging  beyond  the  Alleghanies,  I  meant  not 
to  leave  the  Illinois  Country  until  Ellen  had  con- 
sented to  go  with  me,  or  was  immured  for  life  behind 
convent  walls. 

Father  Gibault  was  with  her  when  she  came  to  me 
the  next  morning,  and  my  heart  beat  fast  with  appre- 
hension; his  presence  seemed  to  convey  a  hint  of 
doom  to  my  hopes.  Ellen's  face  was  very  serious, 


266  DONALD  McELROY 

but  rigidly  self-controlled,  and  about  her  was  an  air 
of  unaccustomed  meekness  and  humility. 

"  The  Father  has  made  my  duty  plain,  Cousin 
Donald,"  she  began;  "  I  must  go  back  to  the  guard- 
ians to  whom  my  parents  left  me,  and  go  from  them 
to  my  seclusion,  when,  by  meekness  and  obedience,  I 
have  won  their  forgiveness;  I  must  shrive  myself 
for  the  holy  life  by  conquering  will  and  pride,"  and 
she  turned  and  left  us,  without  having  once  lifted  her 
eyes  to  mine.  But  my  first  point  was  gained,  and 
my  heart  beat  more  calmly  as  I  turned  to  Father 
Gibault,  still  standing  by  the  window,  looking  pen- 
sively upon  the  landscape,  to  exclaim  vehemently : 

"  And  you  think  a  rash  vow,  made  by  a  child, 
under  stress  of  fright  and  suffering,  obligatory, 
Father  Gibault?  You  will  allow  this  girl  to  feel 
herself  doomed  to  self-immolation  because  of  an  irre- 
sponsible promise  to  her  own  excited  conscience? 
Cannot  you  foresee  that  she  will  live  a  long  life  of 
regret,  and  unavailing  struggle  against  natural  in- 
clinations ?  And  can  you  believe  a  half-hearted  sac- 
rifice, an  immolation  of  the  body  only,  is  more  likely 
to  fit  Ellen  for  Heaven,  or  more  sure  to  do  God's 
service,  than  the  thrice  holy  calling  of  Christian  wife 
and  mother?  " 

"  You  are  vehement  in  your  argument  beyond 
necessity,  monsieur,"  answered  the  Father,  in  his 
soft  precise  English,  and  smiling  calmly  at  me  from 
the  chair  in  which  he  had  seated  himself,  while  I 
strode  up  and  down  the  room  excitedly. 

"  The  matter  excuses  vehemence,"  I  answered. 
"  Have  you  not  guessed  that  I  love  my  Cousin  Ellen, 
that  I  wish  her  for  my  wife?  And  I  would  have 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  267 

good  hope  of  winning  her  but  for  this  absurd  super- 
stition of  your  cold  and  bigoted  faith,  that  a  fair  and 
innocent  young  woman  does  honor  to  God  by  shut- 
ting herself  up  and  doing  penance  —  thus  perpetuat- 
ing a  heathen  custom,  originating  in  the  need  of  un- 
protected women  for  a  place  of  refuge  in  a  lawless 
age,  to  a  more  civilized  time,  which  has  greater  need 
of  the  example  and  the  inspiration  of  holy  matrons, 
than  for  useless  bead-counting  nuns." 

"  You  have  unsuspected  fluency  of  the  tongue, 
Captain  McElroy,"  and  Father  Gibault's  habitual 
expression  of  gentle  benevolence  had  given  place  to 
one  of  droll  humorousness.  "  Priest  though  I  be, 
and  with  mind,  I  trust,  fixed  usually  on  holier  things, 
I  could  not  easily  have  blinded  myself  to  signs  of 
earthly  love  so  evident  as  those  you  have  shown  for 
your  cousin.  I  guessed  many  things  when  the 
maiden  lay  ill  of  fever  last  autumn,  and  you  haunted 
my  steps  for  news  of  her.  I  wonder  not  that  you 
love  Ellen  O'Neil.  A  maiden  more  sweet  I  have 
not  known,  nor  one  better  worth  a  man's  heart. 
When  I  learned  of  her  vow,  I  thought  first  of  you, 
with  much  sympathy,  and  fearing  that  her  convic- 
tions were  but  the  expression  of  extreme  sensibility 
natural  to  girlhood,  I  was  most  careful  not  to  say 
aught  to  fix  them  into  resolve.  Later,  seeing  that 
she  took  a  maiden's  natural  pleasure  in  her  small 
court,  and  that  her  influence  over  Colonel  Clark  and 
the  rest  of  you  was  good,  softening  and  restraining 
you,  I  soothed  Ellen's  unquiet  conscience,  and  showed 
her  that  the  holy  God  had  given  her  a  present  work 
she  could  not  wisely  abandon  until  the  way  was 
opened  to  her.  Moreover,  I  advised  her  to  test  far- 


268  DONALD  McELROY 

ther  her  heart,  and  to  be  sure  of  full,  free  consecra- 
tion before  she  should  take  the  holy  vows  of  a  nun. 
Neither  the  Supreme  God  nor  the  holy  church  value 
half-hearted  service,  and  such  vow  as  Ellen  made  is 
binding  only  so  long  as  conscience,  will,  and  heart 
are  in  full  accord.  Ellen  goes  with  you,  Captain 
McElroy,  free  in  conscience,  unfettered  by  priestly 
admonition." 

These  words  of  Father  Gibault's  lifted  a  weight 
from  my  heart.  I  seized  both  his  hands,  and  shook 
them  gratefully,  saying :  "  You  are  as  honest  and 
as  true  hearted  as  I  thought  you,  Holy  Father,"  call- 
ing him  for  the  first  time  by  the  reverend  title  the 
Kaskaskians  gave  him.  "  I  have  not  words  suffi- 
cient to  express  my  appreciation  of  your  interest  in 
my  happiness  and  your  regard  for  Ellen's  welfare." 

"  I  have  advised  you  both  as  my  conscience  dic- 
tates," he  answered,  resuming  the  expression  of  be- 
nevolence, blended  with  worldly  abstraction,  and  the 
tone  of  fatherly  authority  usual  to  him.  "  In  doing 
so  I  have  shifted  my  responsibility  for  Ellen  O'Niel's 
future  to  you,  until  she  is  safe  in  her  uncle's  home; 
even  then  you  must  share  jointly  with  her  other  kins- 
men the  trust  which  I,  as  her  priestly  guardian,  have 
transmitted  to  you.  Had  I  not  full  confidence  in 
your  honor,  and  your  manly  faith,  Captain  McElroy, 
I  could  not  give  you  so  delicate  a  charge  with  free 
conscience.  You  are  to  conduct  this  maiden  in  all 
safety  and  honor  to  her  uncle's  home;  you  are  to 
leave  her  there  in  unmolested  peace  for  at  least  one 
year  —  longer  if  she  desires  —  and  then  allow  her 
to  choose,  with  absolute  freedom,  between  your  love 
and  a  nun's  life.  She  is  to  choose,  I  repeat,  freely, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  269 

as  her  heart  dictates  and  her  conscience  approves. 
Meantime,  while  she  is  under  your  s'ole  guardianship 
you  are  to  take  no  slightest  advantage  of  her  unpro- 
tected state,  nor  even  of  her  new-found  humility,  to 
wring  from  her  any  promise  or  to  exact  any  condi- 
tion; you  will  not  so  much  as  trouble  her  with  pro- 
testations, nor  frighten  her  with  appeals  and  en- 
treaties." 

"  Most  solemnly,  I  promise  all,  Holy  Father," 
and  I  raised  my  eyes  and  hand  to  Heaven;  "  in  no 
way  will  I  trouble  Ellen's  peace  for  a  full  year;  I 
will  conduct  her  in  honor  and  safety  to  the  care  of 
her  lawful  guardians,  who  shall  in  future  be  account- 
able to  me  for  her  happiness ;  and  if  she  shall  adhere 
to  her  resolutions  to  take  nun's  vows,  my  mother 
shall  escort  her  to  the  convent  she  may  choose." 

"  You  leave  for  Virginia  at  once,  Captain  Mc- 
Elroy?" 

"  In  ten  days,  if  my  cousin  can  be  ready  so  soon." 

"  You  will  take  all  the  brightness  from  Kaskaskia 
with  Ellen,  and  leave  many  sad  hearts  behind. 
Others  go  with  you?  " 

"  Captain  Bowman  and  twenty  of  his  company." 

"  You  make  the  journey  by  water?  " 

"To  the  headwaters  of  the  Alleghany;  there  I 
shall  procure  horses,  and  we  will  make  our  way  to 
the  valley  by  the  nearest  pass." 

Givens,  after  much  deliberation  with  himself  and 
others,  concluded  to  remain  with  Colonel  Clark; 
there  was  strong  possibility,  indeed,  that  he  would 
settle  in  Kaskaskia  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  Only  one 
thing  seemed  to  mar  his  content  —  that  he  would 


270  DONALD  McELROY 

have  fewer  opportunities  in  the  Illinois  country  for 
killing  Indians  than  in  Kentucky,  or  almost  anywhere 
else  in  our  borders.  Colonel  Clark  had  concluded 
an  alliance  with  all  the  tribes  in  that  part  of  our 
territory,  and  was  very  positive  in  his  instructions 
that  no  quarrel  was  to  be  stirred  up  among  them, 
and  no  excuse  whatever  given  them  to  molest  the 
whites,  and  they  seemed  equally  to  desire  to  live  in 
friendly  relations  with  the  Americans. 

"  Wut  in  ther  name  uv  all  ther  saints  en  all  ther 
holies,"  said  Givens,  who  had  been  almost  converted 
to  the  Catholic  faith,  "  Cunnel  Clark  mout  be  hevin' 
en  his  mind  I  doan'  know  —  but,  ef  he'd  er  listened 
ter  me  he'd  never  made  no  sich  er  terms  with  ther 
murderin'  savages  es  ud  lef  no  chance  fur  er  man  ter 
git  his  revenge  on  'em  fur  injuries  es  is  more  an 
human  flesh  en  blood  ought  ter  be  axed  ter  forgive." 

Ellen  parted  with  Givens,  Father  Gibault,  and  the 
faithful  Angelique  and  her  many  friends  in  Kaskas- 
kia,  with  heartfelt  sorrow,  and  they  from  her  with 
evident  grief.  It  seemed,  at  the  last,  almost  cruel 
to  take  her  away  from  so  much  tenderness,  and  sym- 
pathy, to  a  cold,  loveless  atmosphere.  I,  too,  bade 
them,  and  gay  Majore  Legere,  and  genial  Dr.  La- 
fonte,  farewell,  and  took  my  leave  of  the  pleasant 
village  of  Kaskaskia  with  genuine  regret. 

The  parting  with  Clark  was  a  real  heart  wrench. 
He  had  said  good-by  to  Ellen  cheerfully,  even  gayly, 
—  for  it  was  not  his  way  to  wear  heart  on  sleeve  — 
presenting  her  with  a  large  Indian  basket  full  of  amu- 
lets, chains  of  shells,  small  totems,  rugs,  blankets, 
beaded  moccasins,  and  other  curious  things  of  In- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  271 

dian  workmanship,  to  remind  her,  he  said,  of  a 
year's  life  among  savages,  red  sava-ges  and  white : 

"  The  happiest  year  of  my  life,"  said  Ellen,  beam- 
ing gratitude  upon  him  for  his  cheerful  and  unselfish 
God-speed  to  us;  "and  also  the  most  glorious  of 
Colonel  Clark's.  I  go  back  to  chant  the  victories, 
both  in  war  and  diplomacy,  of  our  American  Han- 
nibal!" 

"  The  comparison  is  too  flattering,  Queen  Elea- 
nor," said  Clark,  but  I  knew  he  was  pleased.  I 
thought  of  Hannibal's  end,  even  as  I  saw  the  force 
of  Ellen's  comparison,  and  a  sad  premonition  was 
borne  in  upon  my  mind,  adding  to  my  grief  at  part- 
ing with  him. 

"  If  our  expedition  has  been  successful,  even  be- 
yond our  hopes,"  added  Clark,  "  most  of  the  credit 
is  due  to  my  loyal  officers  and  my  brave  men.  Espe- 
cially must  I  share  any  glory  that  is  mine  with  this 
brave,  true  comrade,"  and  he  laid  a  hand  upon  my 
shoulder,  and  looked  into  my  eyes  with  his  own  bold 
and  piercing  ones,  softened  to  the  tenderness  of  a 
woman's.  I  knew  this  generous  speech  was  made  to 
forward  my  cause  with  Ellen,  and  I  choked  in  my 
throat  as  I  grasped  his  hand  again,  and,  when  I  had 
given  him  one  look  of  thanks,  must  needs  turn  aside 
to  regain  control  of  my  feelings. 

"  If  you  needed  me,  Clark,  I  could  not  leave  you," 
I  found  voice,  presently,  to  say;  "  I  but  go  to  fight 
for  our  cause  beyond  the  Alleghanies.  But  never 
can  I  have  a  commander  more  honored,  or  more 
beloved." 

"  Success  to  you,  McElroy,  in  war  and  peace !  — 
in  all  things  you  may  have  at  heart !  "  he  answered 


272  DONALD  MCELROY 

me,  also  much  moved;  "  and  when  you  have  won 
all  you  strive  for  I  shall  come  to  rejoice  with  you. 
Farewell,  comrade !  " 

"  Farewell,  Queen  Eleanor !  A  pleasant  journey 
and  a  pleasant  home-coming!  Forget  me  not  in 
your  prayers,  sweet  saint!  "  and  he  bent  and  kissed 
her  hand,  then  handed  her  into  the  boat  with  a 
courtly  grace  which  well  became  him. 

He  was  still  standing  upon  the  wharf,  when  we 
made  the  first  bend  in  the  river  —  his  arms  folded, 
his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  receding  boat,  as  if  he  saw  it 
but  as  part  of  a  vision.  We  waved  to  him,  but  he 
did  not  move.  The  virgin  freshness  of  the  early 
morning,  and  the  roseate  radiance  of  the  newly  risen 
sun  brought  out,  with  added  force,  the  heroic  propor- 
tions and  carriage  of  the  man,  silhouetted  like  a 
carven  statue,  representing  human  will,  against  the 
far  sweeping,  luxuriant  bluffs,  crowned  with  the 
growth  of  centuries,  marking  that  vast  and  opulent 
territory  which  his  single  purpose  had  won  and  held 
for  his  country. 

Floating  down  the  river  through  the  soft  October 
haze  on  our  comfortably  fitted  flat  boat  was  ideal 
journeying.  Often  now  when  I  fall  into  reveries,  I 
live  over  again  those  golden  autumn  days,  and  see 
the  rich  and  varied  landscape  through  which  we 
drifted  with  the  swift  current  of  the  majestic  Mis- 
sissippi. 

Ellen  spent  the  days  and  half  the  nights  on  deck, 
protected  from  sun  and  dew,  by  the  overhanging  roof 
of  the  little  cabin  in  which  she  slept.  She  had  her 
own  chair  which  Clark  had  ordered  conveyed  on 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  273 

board  from  the  commandant's  house,  and  there  were 
thick  Indian  mats  for  her  feet.  I  sprawled  on  these, 
hour  after  hour,  making  talk  to  amuse  her,  or  lis- 
tening to  her  when  she  pleased  to  entertain  me,  and 
entirely  content  were  she  silent,  or  talkative,  gay  or 
pensive,  so  only  there  was  no  shadow  of  regret  upon 
her  face.  But  one  thing  was  lacking, —  a  book  or 
two  to  read  from.  In  lieu  of  them  we  told  each 
other  stories  we  had  read,  or  repeated  passages, 
prose  or  poetry,  as  we  could  remember.  Ellen  gave 
me  long  extracts  from  Shakespeare.  I  recited  parts 
from  "  The  School  for  Scandal  " —  that  being,  in 
truth,  all  the  poetry  I  had  learned  by  heart  since 
my  schoolboy  days,  and,  seeing  Ellen  was  interested, 
described  the  costumes  we  wore  at  its  playing  in 
Philadelphia,  and  the  appearance  and  air  of  the 
players.  From  that  I  was  led  on  to  talk  of  the 
society  I  had  mingled  with  in  Philadelphia,  and  then 
of  the  Bufords  and  their  kindness  to  me.  Ellen's 
questions  and  shrewd  guessing  brought  me  at  last  to 
narrate  the  whole  story  of  my  whilom  infatuation  for 
Miss  Nelly,  and  the  narrow  escape  I  made  from 
being  led  to  play  a  traitor's  part  by  her  wiles. 

"  She  must  be  loyal  Tory,  indeed,"  was  Ellen's 
comment,  "  or  else  she  knew  you  less  than  her  oppor- 
tunities permitted,  for  she  risked  her  happiness  most 
rashly." 

"  Her  happiness  was  little  at  stake,  I  have  thought 
since ;  had  she  truly  loved  me  she  would  have  prized 
my  honor  more." 

"  She  is  fair  and  very  winsome,  did  you  say?  " 

"  Yes;  her  manner  wins  you  whether  you  will  or 
no,  and  her  beauty  is  of  a  kind  to  bewitch  —  to  lead 


274  DONALD  McELROY 

a  man  on  like  a  swamp  light,  till,  before  he  realizes 
his  danger,  he  is  hopelessly  entangled." 

"  Would  she  not  resume  her  sway  over  you  were 
you  to  see  her  again?  " 

A  throb  of  joy  set  my  blood  bounding  at  this 
question.  Did  it  not  suggest  a  twinge  of  jealousy  in 
Ellen's  heart?  And  the  thought  modified  my  an- 
swer somewhat. 

"  Can  a  man  ever  measure  the  influence  of  a 
woman's  beauty  and  fascination  upon  him?  Miss 
Buford  bewitched  me  once;  she  might  be  able  to  do 
so  again  —  unless  my  heart  had  some  firm  anchor  to 
hold  by." 

Ellen  sighed  lightly,  "  I  wish  you  had  been  born 
a  Catholic,  Cousin  Donald." 

"  Or  you  a  Protestant,  sweet  Ellen." 

Her  eyes  did  not  answer  the  playful  smile  in  mine, 
nor  did  she,  as  usual,  chide  my  endearment;  instead, 
she  sighed  lightly  again,  and  looked  dreamily  at  the 
water,  breaking  about  our  boat  in  golden  ripples 
under  the  slanting  rays  of  a  declining  sun.  "  It 
were  a  difficult  thing  for  a  Catholic  to  be  happy  in 
the  valley,  Donald." 

"  When  Mr.  Jefferson  has  carried  his  statute  of 
religious  liberty  it  will  not  be.  The  persecuted  be- 
come readily  persecutors;  but  when  we  shall  all  enjoy 
complete  religious  freedom,  such  as  this  statute  gives 
us,  we  shall  be  more  liberal  toward  others.  And 
when  the  war  is  ended,  and  we  have  formed  a  free 
government,  we  shall  have  ideals  so  lofty  before  us, 
and  scope  so  broad  for  all  our  energies,  that  there'll 
be  small  time  or  inclination  for  narrow  bickering 
about  creed  or  doctrine." 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  275 

"  And  this  statute  will  be  enacted?  " 

"  Without  doubt.  It  is  one  of  Mr.  Jefferson's 
cherished  measures;  and  when  peace  is  won,  he  with 
Mason,  Henry  and  others,  I  among  them,  of  diver- 
gent creeds,  but  a  single  ideal,  are  pledged  to  give  all 
our  energies  to  its  enactment." 

"  The  brave,  I  think,  are  ever  liberal-minded," 
said  Ellen,  "  yet  they  are  stubborn  too,  fixed  as  ada- 
mantine in  their  principles."  And  then,  as  she  was 
wont  to  do  when  the  talk  between  us  grew  personal, 
she  called  Captain  Bowman  to  her  side  and  asked 
him  laughingly,  if  he  still  thought  a  Catholic  worse 
than  an  unbeliever,  and  priests  monsters  of  super- 
stition, now  that  he  had  lived  among  them,  and  had 
known  good  Father  Gibault? 

"  If  ever  I  have  thought  so  I  do  no  longer,"  re- 
plied Bowman.  "  The  Kaskaskians  are  honest 
Christians,  and  have  been  faithful  friends  to  us, 
while  Father  Gibault  is,  I  must  admit,  the  equal  for 
piety  and  charitableness  of  any  Presbyterian  parson 
I  have  ever  known." 

"  Then  will  you  not  tell  them  so  in  the  valley?  " 
pleaded  Ellen ;  "  cannot  you,  with  good  conscience, 
speak  a  kind  word  for  a  misunderstood  and  reviled 
sect?  " 

"  But  I  have  yet  one  serious  objection  to  your 
church,  Queen  Eleanor,  that  it  encourages  the  im- 
muring behind  convent  walls  such  as  you  —  women 
whom  the  world  needs  to  leaven  its  sodden  mass  of 
selfishness  and  sin.  Since  you  have  relinquished  your 
vow  of  nunnery,  however,  and  are  half  willing  to 
reward  as  he  deserves  this  brave  comrade  of  mine,  I 
can  heartily  promise  not  only  my  tongue  but  my 


276  DONALD  McELROY 

rifle  also  to  your  defense,  and  the  defense  of  your 
religion  —  should  there  ever  be  need." 

"  But  you  misapprehend  my  cousin's  purposes, 
Captain  Bowman,"  I  made  haste  to  say;  "  she  is  not 
my  promised  wife;  she  but  goes  to  her  uncle's  home 
under  our  protection,  and  from  there,  when  she  is 
fully  ready,  to  a  convent." 

"  Grant  me  your  pardon  for  a  soldier's  bluntness," 
said  Bowman  with  an  embarrassed  bow  to  Ellen; 
then  followed  my  lead  eagerly,  as  I  broached  another 
subject. 

Fair  weather  attended  us  the  entire  route,  with 
only  summer  showers  now  and  then  to  drive  us  to 
the  cabin's  shelter;  and  placid  currents  made  the  row- 
ing, when  we  came  to  ascend  the  Ohio  and  the  Alle- 
ghany,  easy  work.  More  fatiguing  was  the  land- 
ward journey,  which  Bowman,  Ellen,  and  I  contin- 
ued, in  company,  across  mountain  range  after  moun- 
tain range,  valley  after  valley.  When  the  top  of  the 
last  ridge  was  reached,  and  the  fair  land  of  the  Shen- 
andoah  lay  unrolled  to  my  eager  vision,  I  lifted  my 
hat,  and  said  aloud: 

"  Thank  God  !  once  more  I  am  home !  " 

"Aye,  thank  God  for  this  crowning  mercy!" 
added  Bowman  devoutly.  There  it  lay,  the  sweet, 
peaceful  scene  I  loved  better  than  nature's  grandest 
efforts !  My  horse  must  have  felt  the  joyful  impetus 
throbbing  in  my  heart  and  tingling  through  my 
nerves,  for  he  quickened  his  gait  to  match  my  eager- 
ness. 

We  were  still  some  miles  from  home,  and  the 
sun  was  setting,  when  Bowman  halted  at  a  farm 
gate. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  277 

"  A  cousin  of  mine  lives  a  mile  beyond  this  mead- 
ow," he  said,  "  and  I  shall  spend  the  night  with  him. 
He  will  gladly  welcome  my  friends,  and  since  you 
cannot  hope  to  reach  home  before  midnight,  Mc- 
Elroy,  why  not  come  with  me?  Queen  Eleanor  is 
already  tired;  see  how  her  shoulders  droop;  and  for 
an  hour  she  has  not  spoken." 

I  thought  I  saw  assent  in  Ellen's  eyes  and  so  an- 
swered him,  "  Thank  you,  Captain,  for  a  kind  sugges- 
tion. I  accept  gladly  for  my  cousin,  but  I  am  too 
hungry  for  a  sight  of  home  to  need  rest.  On  the  day 
after  to-morrow,  Ellen,  I  shall  return  for  you." 

"  You  are  very  thoughtful,  Cousin  Donald,"  said 
Ellen,  in  low  tones,  as  Captain  Bowman  considerately 
rode  up  to  the  gate,  and  occupied  himself  with  its  fas- 
tenings. "  You  will  break  the  news  of  my  coming, 
and  soften  the  way  for  me.  Good-by  —  till  Thurs- 
day." Then  she  added  with  a  merry  smile,  "  You 
may  promise  what  you  will  for  me;  I  shall  be  good, 
and  meek,  and  humble ;  I  will  even  learn  the  Shorter 
Catechism,  and  wear  my  beads  and  crucifix  beneath 
my  bodice.  It  is  easier  to  be  good  " —  her  expres- 
sion changing  to  one  of  serious  gratitude  — "  when 
one  has  a  friend  and  sympathy." 

"  And  love,  you  should  say,  also,  Ellen.  My 
tongue  is  bound  by  a  promise,  for  a  year,  yet  I  wish 
you  not  to  forget  that  I  shall  love  you  with  unchang- 
ing devotion  to  the  end  of  my  life.  Every  breeze 
that  caresses  your  hair,  Ellen,  every  sunbeam  that 
kisses  your  cheek,  will  bring  a  love  message  from  my 
heart  to  yours.  You  cannot  get  away  from  my 
love,  dear  one,  never  again  while  you  live !  It  will 
follow  you  even  behind  convent  walls,  should  ever 


278  DONALD  McELROY 

your  conscience  take  you  there.     You  will  then  bury 
my  happiness  as  well  as  your  own." 

The  words  had  sprung  from  my  heart,  and  were 
spoken  without  premeditation.  I  realized,  as  soon 
as  they  were  uttered,  that  they  strained,  perhaps,  the 
strict  letter  of  my  compact  with  Father  Gibault;  yet 
when  I  saw  the  flush  upon  Ellen's  cheeks,  and  met 
for  an  instant  a  tender  glance,  which  seemed  to  beam 
without  permission  from  those  rare  blue  eyes,  I  did 
not  regret  the  impulse  which  had  made  me  speak. 
Who  can  set  bounds  to  a  lover's  tongue,  or  demand 
of  the  eye  of  love  that  it  express  only  what  cold 
reason  bids  it  say?  Hearts  have  swayed  heads  since 
Adam  listened  to  Eve,  in  the  garden,  and  will  to  the 
end  of  time. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

The  messages  I  bore  Ellen  from  Aunt  Martha, 
when  I  rode  to  Mr.  White's  to  bring  her  home,  were 
ample  in  assurances  of  forgiveness  and  reconcilia- 
tion, while  Uncle  Thomas'  were  full  of  affection  and 
satisfaction  at  her  return.  Aunt  Martha  I  found 
much  changed;  she  looked  not  only  older,  but  a  new 
expression  of  meekness  struggled  with  the  habitual 
one  of  self-righteousness  and  indomitable  will. 
Mother,  ready  as  ever  to  make  excuses  for  the  faults 
of  those  she  loved,  declared  that  Aunt  Martha's 
whole  nature  had  been  softened  by  recent  chasten- 
ings,  and  that  she  had  even  lost  her  restless,  bustling 
energy,  so  that  one  could  spend,  now,  a  peaceful 
afternoon  with  her  and  not  be  conscious  of  having 
interrupted  a  soap  boiling,  a  candle  molding,  or  a 
quilting.  It  was  evident  from  my  brief  talk  with 
her  that  Ellen's  return  was  a  great  satisfaction;  that 
she  regarded  it  in  some  sense  as  a  vindication  in  the 
eyes  of  husband,  son,  and  neighbors.  Thomas  had 
just  departed  for  Liberty  Hall  Academy  to  continue 
his  ministerial  studies,  which  was  one  reason,  per- 
haps, that  Aunt  Martha  could  welcome  Ellen  sin- 
cerely. Especially  had  Thomas'  full  confession  of 
all  that  had  passed  between  Ellen  and  himself  soft- 
ened his  mother's  heart  toward  her,  and  increased 
her  regret  for  past  harshness. 

Thomas,  I  found,  had  been  most  considerate,  hav- 


280  DONALD  McELROY 

ing  given  no  hint  to  any  one  of  my  feelings  toward 
Ellen.  But  I  told  my  mother,  as  we  sat  talking, 
late  into  the  night,  and  got  her  blessing,  with  a  prom- 
ise of  profound  secrecy,  and  whatever  help  she  might 
find  quiet  opportunity  to  give  me.  All  my  own 
affairs  were  for  the  present  as  I  would  have  them, 
and  my  heart  would  have  been  as  light  as  thistle- 
down but  for  the  discouraging  war  news  I  had  from 
my  father. 

The  year  that  had  given  us  such  unbroken  success, 
and  such  fruitful  victories  in  the  Northwest,  had 
been  one  of  disaster  for  the  American  cause  in  the 
East.  The  British  still  held  New  York ;  Fort  Wash- 
ington had  been  taken,  Continental  currency  was  de- 
preciated in  value  till  it  was  no  longer  possible  to 
procure  necessary  army  supplies;  the  troops  had  not 
been  paid  for  months,  and  were  ragged,  poorly 
equipped,  half  starved,  and  mutinous.  Georgia  had 
fallen,  and  South  Carolina  sorely  beset  by  home  and 
foreign  enemies,  could  not  hope  to  hold  out  much 
longer  unless  strongly  reenforced  from  without. 
Worse  still,  the  gallant  and  patriotic  Arnold  had 
turned  traitor,  and  a  shuddering  horror  and  appre- 
hension was  upon  the  land  —  since  the  noble  and 
high-spirited  Arnold  could  fall  to  such  depths,  might 
we  not  look  for  treason  everywhere?  On  hearing 
all  this  discouraging  news,  I  determined  at  once  to 
visit  Colonel  Morgan,  and  to  urge  him,  despite  his 
physical  infirmities  and  his  justly  wounded  pride  — 
for  Congress  had  not  yet  raised  him  to  the  rank  to 
which  his  past  services  had  entitled  him  —  to  call 
together  his  scattered  riflemen  once  more,  and  go  to 
the  help  of  the  hard-pressed  patriots  of  the  sparsely 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  281 

settled  South.  And  so  I  told  Ellen  as  we  rode  to- 
gether to  Uncle  Thomas'. 

"  Shall  I  feel  as  lonely,  and  as  friendless  when  you 
are  gone,  I  wonder,  as  I  did  the  first  time  you  left  the 
valley  with  Morgan?"  said  Ellen  with  a  light  sigh. 

"  You  were  a  child  then,"  I  answered,  "  and  had 
few  resources.  Now  you  are  sufficient  to  yourself. 
I  fear  you  will  not  miss  me  half  so  much  as  you  will 
the  kindly  Kaskaskians,  and  the  good  Father,  and 
the  faithful  Angelique." 

"  Bless  their  memories !  I  shall  miss  them,  and 
long  for  a  sight  of  their  kind  faces.  But,  all  the 
more,  since  they  are  so  far  away,  I  shall  miss  my 
one  true  and  tried  friend  in  the  valley." 

"  Will  you  be  very  lonely  and  unhappy  in  the  val- 
ley, Ellen?  Would  you  have  been  far  better  con- 
tented had  I  left  you  in  Kaskaskia?  "  I  questioned 
anxiously. 

"  Father  Gibault  thought  it  my  duty,  Cousin  Don- 
ald, and  more  and  more  I  understand  that  it  is  the 
one  right  thing  for  me.  I  must  find  the  way  my  God 
would  have  me  walk  by  following  the  lowly  path  of 
duty,  and  by  making  reparation  for  past  sins.  Do 
you  remember,  Cousin,  that  night  before  you  left  the 
valley  —  when  you  found  me  star-gazing  on  the  rock 
overhanging  the  spring?  " 

"  Aye,  Ellen !  The  vision  of  you,  as  you  looked 
that  night,  has  come  back  to  me  again  and  again  — 
so  often  that  I  began  to  question,  long  before  I  knew 
I  loved  you,  as  man  loves  but  one  woman  in  his  life, 
what  import  the  vision  might  have,  and  to  wonder  if 
it  foretold  the  crossing  of  our  lives  in  some  fateful 
way.  That  picture  was  the  last  that  floated  through 


282  DONALD  MCELROY 

my  dream  the  day  I  slept  in  the  forest,  when  you 
saved  me  from  the  Indian's  tomahawk." 

"  Memory,  it  seems  to  me,  has  mysterious  power, 
—  beyond  our  will  to  guide,  or  our  reason  to  ex- 
plain," Ellen  replied.  "  That  night  of  our  farewell 
at  the  spring,  the  first  fibers  of  affection  and  sympa- 
thy reached  out  from  your  heart  to  mine,  and 
through  all  these  months  have  stretched  and  held  till 
they  have  grown  strong  enough  to  bring  me  back  to 
my  duty." 

"  May  they  grow  yet  stronger,  Ellen,  till  our 
hearts  are  knitted  together  for  life,  and  for  eter- 
nity! " 

Ellen's  serious  absorption  was  shaken  by  these 
words,  and  she  blushed  like  any  earthly  minded 
maiden,  as  she  answered: 

"  My  heart  will  ever  feel  itself  bound  to  yours  by 
the  fibers  of  a  deep  and  strong  affection,  Cousin 
Donald,  wherever  my  duty  leads  me.  There  can 
be  no  harm  in  a  nun's  cherishing  gratitude  and  affec- 
tion, nor  in  her  offering  hourly  prayers  for  one  who 
has  been  to  her  the  noblest  of  friends." 

"  Your  thoughts  and  prayers  would  be  but  cheer- 
less consolation  for  a  desolate  life.  I  want  your 
daily  presence,  Ellen,  the  hourly  benediction  of  your 
smile.  But,  forgive  me,  dear," —  for  I  saw  that 
her  lips  trembled  like  a  grieved  child's,  and  that  a 
tear  had  slipped  from  underneath  her  lowered  lids; 
"  I  am  very  weak.  After  all  my  promises  I  continue 
to  disturb  you  with  my  arguing  and  beseeching.  You 
shall  have  a  year  to  think  upon  it  all,  and,  mean- 
while, I  shall  smother  in  my  breast  every  word  that 
my  heart  may  urge  to  my  lips." 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  283 

My  visit  to  Colonel  Morgan  was  made  before 
Christmas,  and  I  returned  home  cheered  by  his 
promise  to  take  the  field  early  in  the  spring.  Mean- 
while I  was  put  to  my  old  work  of  enlisting  recruits 
—  a  work  much  interrupted  by  the  malarial  chills 
which  every  second  day  tied  me  to  the  chimney  cor- 
ner. Gradually  they  wore  themselves  out,  and  by 
the  faithful  use  of  bitters  concocted  from  the  Peru- 
vian bark  Father  Gibault  had  given  me,  I  made  my- 
self fit  for  active  duty  by  the  early  spring,  and  gladly 
joined  Morgan.  He  had  been  almost  grudgingly 
made  general  by  Congress  at  last,  and  generously 
forgetting  all  past  wrongs  and  differences  had  has- 
tened to  join  Gates,  after  the  woeful  disaster  of 
Camden. 

But  that  unfortunate  officer  reaped  now  the  fruits 
of  his  previous  scheming  and  bragging,  and  fell  rap- 
idly from  the  favor  of  Congress,  in  which  he  had 
held  so  high  a  place  since  Saratoga.  He  was  re- 
placed by  the  capable  General  Greene,  and  roundly 
abused  by  the  whole  country.  Having  been  sent  into 
North  Carolina  with  dispatches  from  General  Mor- 
gan to  certain  officers  of  the  State  Militia,  it  was  my 
good  fortune  on  my  return  to  fall  in  with  grim  back- 
woodsmen marching  to  meet  and  repulse  the  advance 
of  Ferguson.  I  accepted  temporary  service  under 
Colonel  Campbell,  and  so  had  the  honor  of  fighting 
beside  those  indomitable  militiamen,  who  won  the 
victory  of  King's  Mountain  —  one  of  the  most  glori- 
ous incidents  of  our  Revolution,  and  the  turning 
point  of  disasters,  from  which  events  marched  on, 
more  and  more  successfully,  to  Cowpens  and  York- 
town.  At  the  risk  of  wearying  my  readers  with  con- 


284  DONALD  McELROY      . 

stant  reiteration  of  the  praises  of  the  race  from 
which  I  proudly  claim  descent  —  though  I  have 
played  fair  with  them,  saying,  in  the  beginning,  that 
it  was  partly  with  the  hope  of  repairing  our  histo- 
rians' neglect  of  the  Scotch  Irish  that  this  chronicle 
was  undertaken  —  I  must  call  attention  to  the  fact 
that  King's  Mountain  was  a  Scotch  Irish  victory,  won 
by  militiamen  of  that  race.  I  doubt,  indeed,  if  the 
plan  could  have  been  conceived,  or  if  conceived  could 
have  been  executed,  by  regulars.  Men  used  to  climb- 
ing mountains,  and  to  the  methods  of  Indian  warfare, 
were  needed  to  fight  and  win  as  the  frontiermen 
fought  and  won  at  King's  Mountain. 

By  the  first  of  January  our  affairs  in  the  South 
were  more  hopeful.  Recently  discouraged  patriots, 
inspired  by  the  victory  of  King's  Mountain,  flocked  to 
General  Greene's  standard,  and  that  able  officer,  sup- 
ported by  General  Morgan  and  Colonel  Washington, 
and  aided  by  the  daring  bands  led  by  Sumter  and 
Marion,  soon  threatened  Cornwallis  on  both  his 
flanks,  and  by  a  series  of  surprises  and  sudden  maneu- 
vers so  confused  that  military  pedant  that  he  did  not 
know  what  next  to  expect,  and  hardly  which  way  to 
turn.  Having  divided  his  army  into  two  bodies, 
Greene  skillfully  avoided  a  drawn  battle,  and  contin- 
ued to  threaten  the  British  communications.  For 
Cornwallis  to  sit  still  was  to  await  his  doom ;  to  march 
against  either  army  was  to  give  the  other  an  oppor- 
tunity to  win  a  fatal  advantage.  He,  therefore, 
divided  his  own  force,  sending  the  renowned  Tarle- 
ton  to  hold  Morgan  in  check,  while  he  drew  Greene 
after  him  into  North  Carolina. 

Morgan  retired  slowly  before  Tarleton's  advance 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  285 

to  some  meadows,  not  far  from  King's  Mountain, 
and  there  formed  his  men  upon  the  field  of  Cowpens, 
on  gently  rising  ground,  with  hills  to  the  left,  and  a 
deep,  broad  river  in  the  rear.  There  would  be  no 
chance  for  the  militiamen  to  run,  for,  said  Morgan, 
with  grim  humor,  when  they  had  reached  the  river's 
bank  they  would  likely  be  willing  to  turn  and  fight 
again.  We  slept  that  night  upon  our  chosen  battle 
ground,  and  until  past  midnight  General  Morgan 
was  abroad  in  the  camp,  inspecting  arms,  inspiring 
his  officers,  joking  with  his  men,  and  telling  them 
what  they  and  the  "  old  wagoner  "  would  do  for  the 
British  regulars  the  next  morning. 

To  form  in  fighting  line,  according  to  prearranged 
plan,  was  but  an  hour's  work,  when  Tarleton's  ad- 
vance was  discovered,  and  time  was  still  left  for  our 
General  to  ride  down  the  line,  encouraging  and  ani- 
mating us  with  a  few  hearty  words  —  such  as  he  so 
well  knew  how  to  fit  to  each  heroic  occasion.  A  furi- 
ous rush,  Tarleton's  favorite  maneuver,  drove  in 
our  front  line  of  militia,  as  had  been  foreseen,  after 
they  had  obeyed  General  Morgan's  oft  repeated 
command  to  fire  at  least  two  volleys,  at  killing  range, 
before  breaking  rank.  But,  behind  the  militia  stood 
DeKalb  and  his  Marylanders,  and  a  tried  company  of 
Virginia  Continentals,  who  met  calmly  the  too  con- 
fident pursuit  of  the  British,  and  fought  deliberately, 
till  Colonel  Washington's  cavalry  swooped  down 
from  the  hills,  attacking  the  enemy's  right  flank 
simultaneously  with  the  charge  of  the  militia,  which 
had  been  re-formed,  and  marched  around  our  posi- 
tion, on  their  left.  Already  entangled,  by  their  over- 
eager  pursuit  of  our  first  column,  with  their  oppo- 


286  DONALD  McELROY 

nents,  and  now  almost  surrounded,  the  British  fought 
on,  gallantly  but  hopelessly.  A  bayonet  charge  from 
the  Continentals  in  their  front  quickly  brought  about 
rout  and  panic,  and  nearly  the  whole  British  force 
engaged  was  killed  or  captured.  Their  loss  was 
nearly  one  thousand;  ours  not  more  than  seventy- 
five.  No  battle  of  our  War  for  Independence  was 
more  skillfully  planned,  more  boldly  won,  and  to 
General  Morgan,  alone,  belongs  the  credit  for  plan 
and  execution. 

A  fortunately  heavy  rainfall  cut  off  Cornwallis' 
pursuit,  and  gave  us  an  opportunity  to  carry  our 
prisoners  across  the  Catawba.  General  Greene 
joined  us  here,  escorted  by  a  few  dragoons,  his  force 
behind  him.  Ht  had  heard  of  Morgan's  splendid 
victory,  and  pushed  forward  to  help  him  reap  the 
fruits  of  it.  But  Morgan  was  now  attacked  vio- 
lently by  his  old  enemy,  rheumatism,  and  could  not 
leave  his  tent;  the  gallant  "  old  wagoner  "  who  had 
never  known  defeat  in  battle,  had  more  than  once 
been  vanquished  by  disease,  the  result,  he  bitterly 
admitted,  of  his  own  youthful  excesses.  A  few 
weeks  later  he  was  forced  to  resign  his  command, 
and  to  return  to  his  home. 

That  circumstance  made  easier  for  me  the  duty 
which  had  been  assigned  me  —  namely,  to  command 
one  company  of  the  militia  which  was  to  escort  our 
seven  hundred  prisoners  to  Virginia.  My  latest 
service,  on  General  Morgan's  staff,  had  been  most 
congenial  to  me,  and  even  the  honor  now  offered  me 
of  a  similar  position  with  General  Greene  did  not 
console  me  for  the  loss  of  my  first  leader.  The 
place  would  have  been  gratefully  accepted,  however, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  287 

for  I  admired  and  trusted  General  'Greene,  both  as 
man  and  leader  —  even  with  loss  of  the  opportunity 
of  a  few  days  at  home,  and  a  glimpse  of  Ellen  — 
had  not  a  circumstance  occurred  which  made  me  en- 
tirely willing  to  perform  the  duty  which  had  been 
first  assigned  me.  This  circumstance  was  communi- 
cated to  me  by  General  Morgan. 

"  Whom,  in  heaven's  name,  think  you  I  found  this 
morning  among  our  prisoners,  McElroy?  Young 
Buford  —  the  pretty  Nelly's  brother,  he  who  res- 
cued you  from  Philadelphia  prison  hospital.  He 
has  a  painful  but  not  dangerous  wound  in  the  hip, 
for  which  reason  he  sent  to  me,  asking  for  ambulance 
service,  his  wound  having  become  inflamed  from  the 
march." 

"Make  him  my  prisoner,  General?"  I  asked 
eagerly;  "  I  claim  no  other  share  of  the  spoils." 

"  Eh?  You'll  hold  him  as  hostage  for  his  sister's 
favor  —  fair  stratagem,  I  suppose.  He'll  be  per- 
fectly safe  in  your  hands,  doubtless,  so  I'll  turn  him 
over  to  you." 

"  To  him  and  to  his  entire  family  I  owe  an  obliga- 
tion which  can  be  repaid  in  kind  only;  this  is  a  longed 
for  opportunity." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  with  him?  " 

"  Take  him  to  my  own  home,  even  as  he  did  me, 
and  leave  him  to  my  mother's  nursing,  till  he  is  well 
enough  to  be  discharged." 

"  And  no  parole  asked?  The  terms  granted  you 
were  less  generous." 

"  Buford  did  not  make  the  terms;  but  if  he  had,  I 
should  still  wish  to  surpass  my  enemies  in  generosity, 
as  well  as  in  bravery." 


288  DONALD  McELROY 

"  Then  you  will  decline  Greene's  offer  of  a  place 
on  his  staff?  I  asked  it  for  you,  thinking  this  excur- 
sion to  Virginia  in  charge  of  prisoners  less  to  your 
liking." 

"  It  was  most  kind  of  you,  General,  but  for  this 
find  of  Buford  it  would  have  been  my  choice  —  could 
the  place  be  held  for  me?  " 

"  It  can  be,  doubtless,  especially  if  you  can  bring 
back  some  recruits.  Greene  will  need  reenforce- 
ments,  and  must  look  to  Virginia  for  them.  But  for 
these  swollen  and  painful  limbs  of  mine," —  with  a 
grimace  toward  those  much  swathed  members  — "  I 
should  be  the  last  to  desert  him.  It's  a  bitter  pill, 
lad,  to  be  obliged  to  go  home  —  to  be  chained  by 
disease  to  my  chair,  like  a  galley  slave  to  his  bench, 
when  my  spirit  is  with  the  front  ranks,  against  our 
country's  enemies." 

"  It  is  a  sore  grief  to  me,  also,  General,  and  par- 
ticularly that  your  malady  should  attack  you  now, 
when  your  newest  laurels  are  still  green,  and  there 
are  more  awaiting  you.  Your  retirement  takes  half 
the  heart  out  of  me  for  the  service,  as  it  does  for 
every  rifleman  in  the  regiment." 

"  That  spirit  must  not  be  encouraged,  lad.  As 
much  as  it  pleases  me  to  be  regretted  by  my  gallant 
boys,  it  would  sincerely  grieve  me  were  my  going  to 
affect  in  any  way  their  zeal  or  bravery.  I  shall  ex- 
pect them  to  do  no  less  than  they  have  always  done, 
indeed  they  must  fight  the  more  determinedly  because 
their  commander  has  gone  stiff  and  lame  and  must  be 
content  to  stand  like  a  used  up  horse  in  the  stall, 
munching  memories  for  diversion." 

"  You'll  get  better  after  a  rest,  General,  and  be 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  289 

at  it  again  before  the  war's  over.     Not  even  disease 
can  conquer  your  spirit." 

"  Right,  lad !  If  the  war  lasts  long  enough  for 
my  good  Abigail  to  tea  and  poultice  the  swelling 
from  my  joints,  I'll  be  at  'em  again." 

That  evening  I  had  Buford  removed  to  my  tent, 
where,  presently,  I  visited  him. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  the  occasion,  Captain  Buford,"  I 
said,  extending  my  hand  to  him,  "  but  since  it  was 
written  that  this  misfortune  of  war  should  befall  you, 
I  am  grateful  that  the  opportunity  has  come  to  me 
to  repay  in  some  degree  the  courtesy  and  kindness 
I  received  at  your  hands,  when  my  situation  was 
similar  to  your  present  one." 

"It  is  indeed  Donald  McElroy!  "  Buford  ex- 
claimed,  in  pleased  tones.  "  I  am  lucky  in  spite  of 
this  painful  accompaniment  to  my  good  fortune," 
pointing  to  his  bandaged  thigh. 

"  You  are  now  my  prisoner,"  I  said,  "  and  your 
wound  shall  have  the  best  attention  possible." 

"  You  are  then  in  command  of  the  militia  which  is 
to  convey  us  to  Virginia?  Is  it  proper  to  tell  me 
our  final  destination?  " 

"  Yours,  with  your  consent,  Captain  Buford,  is  my 
own  home.  My  mother  is  the  best  of  nurses.  I 
promise  you  comfort  and  kind  care,  at  any  rate,  if 
you  will  agree  to  the  arrangements  just  made  between 
Colonel  Morgan  and  me." 

"  One  would  think  me  an  urged  guest,  rather  than 
a  poor  sick  prisoner,"  answered  Buford,  a  smile 
upon  his  face.  He  was  much  like  Nelly,  though  his 
was  strictly  a  masculine,  as  hers  was  purely  a  femi- 


290  DONALD  McELROY 

nine,  type  of  comeliness.  "  There  is  small  likelihood 
that  I  shall  decline  so  generous  an  offer  —  a  comfort- 
able home  and  woman's  nursing  are  all  too  tempting 
for  my  present  weakness." 

"  As  was  your  offer  to  me  in  Philadelphia.  It  is 
seldom,  I  imagine,  that  a  man  is  granted  so  high  a 
boon  as  the  opportunity  to  evince  in  fitting  deeds  his 
gratitude.  Your  mother  and  sister  are  well,  I  hope, 
and  in  safety?  " 

"  My  mother  is  dead,  Captain  McElroy,  and  I 
fear  her  constant  anxiety  for  me  hastened  her  end. 
Nelly,  poor  girl,  is  left  lonely  and  desolate.  She 
has  taken  refuge  for  the  present  with  Quaker  friends 
near  the  city." 

I  expressed  my  regret  and  sympathy,  and  left  him 
to  make  arrangements  for  the  march  next  day.  His 
news  oppressed  my  spirit  more  than  one  would  have 
supposed;  it  was  hard  to  think  of  light-hearted  Nelly 
as  a  sad  refugee.  Oh,  this  weary,  cruel  war! 
When  would  it  end? 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

Buford's  strength  had  been  so  burnt  out  with 
fever,  and  so  wasted  from  the  suppuration  of  his 
wound,  that  he  was  but  the  pale,  limp  outline  of  a 
man  when  I  laid  him  gently  on  one  of  my  mother's 
snowy  beds.  Had  he  been  more  than  Tory,  more 
than  British  officer,  my  dear  mother  would  have  re- 
ceived him  kindly  in  his  present  state,  and  laid  aside 
all  other  duties  to  care  for  him.  It  was  good  to  see 
her  hovering  over  him  with  gentle  touch  and  to  hear 
her  say:  "  They  were  good  to  you,  son,  when  you 
were  in  like  condition,  I  am  proud  you  brought 
him  to  me ;  he  shall  have  every  care,  every  comfort." 

"  Oh,  brother,  were  you  as  ill  as  this,  when  he 
took  you  from  the  Philadelphia  prison?  "  said  Jean, 
tender  commiseration  on  her  face. 

"  Weaker,  I  think,  only  I  had  passed  the  stage  of 
delirium  into  which  he  slipped  only  a  few  days  ago. 
But  look  at  me  now !  See  how  robust  I  am !  "  and 
I  lifted  her  by  the  elbows  to  the  level  of  my  face, 
kissed  her  and  set  her  upon  her  feet  again,  adding: 
"  Buford  will  soon  be  as  sound,  with  yours  and 
mother's  nursing." 

"  His  mother  and  sister  nursed  you?  " 

"  They  had  me  well-cared  for.  I  was  over  the 
worst  when  they  found  me." 

"  We'll  nurse  him  carefully,  dear  Donald,  you 
may  be  satisfied  of  that.  Is  he,  though,  really  a 
Tory?  He  looks  like  a  gentleman,"  glancing  to- 


292  DONALD  MCELROY 

ward  him  as  she  spoke,  as  if  she  half  suspected  Bu- 
ford  of  possessing  hidden  tusks  and  horns  like  some 
fabled  monster. 

"  And  gentleman  he  is,  only  his  opinions  do  not 
agree  with  ours  " ;  whereupon  I  laughed  so  merrily 
at  Jean's  shocked  face  that  mother  signed  to  us  to 
leave  the  room,  lest  we  disturb  her  patient.  "  Aye, 
little  sister,"  I  continued,  "  prejudice  is  a  most 
strange  thing!  'Tis  like  a  pestilence  in  the  air,  poi- 
soning even  the  most  innocent  and  pure-hearted. 
Heaven,  Jean,  I  doubt  not,  is  a  place  where  thought 
is  as  free  as  God's  smile,  and  conviction  untram- 
meled,  save  by  love  and  knowledge  of  truth.  Such 
state  would  almost  be  heaven,  methinks,  without 
other  concomitants." 

Jean,  though  the  sweetest  of  little  women,  and 
well  endowed  with  common  sense,  and  all  needful 
womanly  reason,  cared  not,  like  Ellen,  to  follow  the 
twistings  and  wanderings  of  thought,  so  she  took  me 
straight  back  to  our  subject. 

"  And  if  Captain  Buford  gets  well,  Donald,  will 
they  hang  him  because  he  is  a  Tory?  " 

"  Do  you  suppose,  innocent  one,  that  we  but  fatten 
him  for  the  halter?  Either  he'll  be  exchanged,  pa- 
roled, or  discharged." 

"Then  he'll  go  back  to  fight  more  against  us? 
Oh!  Donald,  I'm  afraid  I  shall  hate  the  poor  man 
when  he  begins  to  get  stronger,  though  he  looks  now 
so  pitiable." 

"  It  would  be  very  hard  to  hate  Buford,  Jean. 
You'll  forget  he's  in  a  sense  our  enemy.  But,  don't 
bother  your  little  head  about  all  this  yet;  perhaps 
Generals  Greene  and  Washington  may  make  peace 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  293 

with  the  British  by  the  time  Buford  is  strong  enough 
to  shoulder  arms  again.  A  few  more  victories  like 
King's  Mountain  and  Cowpens  and  it's  done." 

"  What  would  then  become  of  Captain  Buford?  " 
persisted  Jean. 

"  He  would  be  released,  and  could  go  back  to 
Philadelphia,  or  to  England,  as  he  pleased.  Per- 
haps his  estate  would  be  confiscated,  and  he  might 
suffer  other  persecutions.  There  is  much  bitterness 
everywhere  against  the  Tories,"  I  responded. 

"Poor  gentleman!"  she  sighed;  "perhaps  we 
ought  not  to  want  him  to  get  well." 

"  Nonsense,  little  Jean!  Of  course  we  want  him 
to  get  well,  and  if  he  could  be  consulted  he  himself 
would  choose  to  get  well,  you  may  be  sure.  A  man 
worth  the  name  wants  to  see  the  end  of  the  play  — 
to  finish  the  game  —  to  keep  up  life's  battle  while 
muscle  and  wind  are  left  him  to  fight  with.  Do  all 
you  can  to  cure  him,  Jean,  and  leave  his  future  in 
his  own  hands." 

"  And  God's,"  she  added  reverently. 

All  this  conversation  I  repeated  to  Ellen,  during 
the  few  brief  hours  I  had  to  spend  with  her.  Then 
we  went  back  to  the  subject  of  prejudice,  and  I  talked 
out  the  convictions  which  Jean  had  not  encouraged 
me  to  express.  Ellen  was  broad-minded,  open- 
souled  —  one  of  God's  chosen  transmitters  from 
generation  to  generation  of  ever-widening  truth. 
This  talk  between  us  upon  the  subject  of  prejudice, 
as  to  which  we  were  already  a'greed,  led  on  to  a  less 
general  discussion,  and  gave  me  opportunity  to  drive, 
I  hoped,  another  wedge  between  superstition  and 


294  DONALD  McELROY 

consecration.  Presently  I  made  the  enquiry  I  al- 
most dreaded  to  have  her  answer: 

"  Tell  me  of  your  daily  life  with  Aunt  Martha, 
Ellen;  is  each  day  still  a  trial  to  you,  exercising  all 
your  fortitude  and  patience?"  Her  answer  gave 
me  my  first  heart's  ease  for  weeks. 

"  No,  Donald,  I  wonder,  indeed,  if  it  was  ever  so 
bad  as  I  thought,  or  if  my  stubborn  will  and  set  de- 
fiance magnified  the  hardships  I  underwent,  as  a 
child,  under  Aunt  Martha's  discipline.  However 
that  may  have  been,  I  find  her,  now,  disposed  to  give 
me  full  liberty,  and  to  exact  few  duties.  Indeed,  it 
is  of  my  own  will  that  I  relieve  her  of  such  duties  as 
she  will  trust  me  to  perform;  and  since  her  health 
fails  more  and  more,  she  is  obliged  to  let  others  do 
many  things  she  once  took  upon  herself." 

"  And  she  never  asks  you  to  go  to  church?  " 

"  No,  but  twice  I  have  offered  to  go.  Father 
Gibault  granted  me  absolution  beforehand  —  as 
Elisha  did  Naaman  —  should  I  think  it  best  to  at- 
tend the  Protestant  meetings  which  my  relatives  fre- 
quented. And  I  have  found  the  quiet  church  a  bet- 
ter place  to  repeat  my  litany  and  aves  than  even  my 
own  room;  the  preacher's  voice  I  can  imagine  to  be 
the  priest's  intoning,  and  if  I  shut  my  eyes,  I  can  see 
the  candles,  and  smell  the  incense." 

I  smiled  at  this  naive  confession.  "  But  you 
make  no  signs,  I  hope,"  I  said  in  pretended  serious- 
ness, which  for  a  moment  deceived  her. 

"  I  am  careful  to  do  so  only  under  my  tippet;  and 
see !  I  wear  my  beads  beneath  my  gown,"  and  Ellen 
drew  forth  a  small  ebony  cross  and  held  it  out  for 
my  inspection. 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  295 

Thinking  this  scene  over  later,  Ellen's  religion 
seemed  to  me  not  only  harmless  —  apart  from  her 
superstitious  vow  —  but  so  much  a  part  of  her  as  to 
be  lovable.  It  would  nowise  affect  my  confidence 
and  love  were  my  wife  always  a  devout  Catholic. 
Could  I  be  one  with  her,  though,  in  her  religion; 
could  I  yield  my  own  simple  and  sublime  faith  for 
hers?  —  to  that  question  came  a  not  uncertain  nega- 
tive. My  reason  and  feelings  repelled  all  the  dog- 
mas and  practices  so  sacred  to  Ellen,  as  hers  did 
those  most  congenial  to  my  spirit!  No!  I  would 
make  no  compromise  with  the  woman  I  loved  —  the 
woman  I  would  win  for  my  wife.  She  must  come  to 
me  trusting  all,  confiding  all.  There  must  be  no 
terms  of  barter  between  me  and  my  heart's  love. 

The  company  of  militiamen  I  was  able  to  take  with 
me  to  General  Greene  was  warmly  welcomed,  for 
many  of  the  men  of  King's  Mountain  and  Cowpens 
had  refused  to  enlist  for  regular  service,  and  Gen- 
eral Greene  was  using  all  the  skillful  tactics  of 
which  he  was  master  to  avoid  a  drawn  battle  with 
Cornwallis'  united  army,  until  his  own  was  strong 
enough  to  offer  some  hope  of  another  victory.  De- 
feat could  not  be  risked  just  now,  for  that  meant  a 
resubjugated  South,  and  then  General  Washington's 
dislodgement  from  Philadelphia  and  New  Jersey, 
which  would  be  the  end  of  our  hopes  and  our  efforts. 
The  battle  of  Guilford  Court  House,  fought  on  the 
fifth  of  March,  was  claimed  by  the  British  as  a  de- 
feat for  the  Americans;  but  Charles  Fox  realized,  as 
General  Greene  did,  its  true  import,  when  he  said  on 
the  floor  of  the  British  Parliament: 


296  DONALD  MCELROY 

"  Another  such  victory  as  that  of  Guilford  would 
destroy  the  British  Army." 

General  Greene  now  retreated  to  Troublesome 
Creek  and  there  awaited  the  expected  pursuit.  We 
did  not  know  until  later  that  General  Cornwallis  had 
lost  a  third  of  his  force,  nor  that  he  was  so  encum- 
bered with  wounded,  and  so  needy  of  supplies  of  all 
kinds,  as  to  make  pursuit  impossible.  Slowly  he 
fell  back  into  the  Tory  Highland  Settlement  at  Cross 
Creek.  We  followed,  at  first  cautiously,  but  more 
and  more  eager  to  dislodge  and  rout  our  enemy  as 
we  learned  of  his  crippled  condition.  Our  own  lack 
of  ammunition  prevented  our  doing  so,  and  General 
Cornwallis  was  perforce  allowed  to  cross  Deep 
River,  near  Ramsay's  Mill.  Both  armies  crouched 
here  —  like  two  angry  lions,  pausing  in  prolonged 
combat,  and  waiting  but  for  strength  enough  to  make 
again  at  each  other's  throats  —  for  some  weeks,  the 
river  between,  with  all  its  fords  vigilantly  guarded. 
We  Continentals  fared  hardly,  meanwhile,  subsisting 
on  ash  cakes,  and  the  black,  stringy  meat  of  the  half 
wild  cattle,  raised  on  the  pine  barrens.  The  damp 
ground  was  our  bed,  and  our  ragged  blankets  and 
our  tattered  clothes  were  our  only  protection  from 
the  vagaries  of  the  spring  weather. 

A  bold  decision  of  General  Greene's  relieved  the 
strained  situation.  He  would  leave  Cornwallis  in 
his  rear,  and  advance  by  rapid  marches  to  the  relief 
of  South  Carolina.  If  Cornwallis  should  follow 
him  he  would  turn  and  give  him  battle;  —  if  he 
should  decide  to  march  on  northward  to  cooperate 
with  Arnold  in  Virginia,  the  militia  and  General  La- 
fayette must  take  care  of  him.  His,  General 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  297 

Greene's,  task  was  to  relieve  the  Southern  States;  he 
would  stick  to  his  work. 

We  advanced  swiftly  to  Camden,  held  by  a  con- 
siderable British  force,  and  sat  down  before  it. 
Cornwallis  still  remained  at  Ramsay's  Mill.  The 
night  before  the  fall  of  Fort  Watson,  which  would 
give  us  Camden,  General  Greene  sent  for  me  to  his 
tent.  "Colonel  McElroy,"  he  began  —  I  have 
found  no  opportunity  to  state  my  gradual  rise  in  rank 
during  my  eight  months  of  southern  service, — "  I 
wish  to  send  important  dispatches  to  Governor  Jef- 
ferson, and  for  obvious  reasons  prefer  to  have  them 
conveyed  orally.  I  must  have  a  trusty  and  well 
accredited  messenger,  and  one  perfectly  familiar 
with  the  country,  therefore  I  have  chosen  you.  Say 
to  Governor  Jefferson  that  I  believe  it  to  be  General 
Cornwallis'  intention  to  advance  into  Virginia  in  an 
attempt  to  overrun  and  subjugate  that  state.  Say 
to  him,  that  I  hope,  with  the  assistance  of  Sumter's 
and  Marion's  rangers,  without  further  reenforce- 
ments,  to  relieve  the  Southern  States,  and  after- 
wards, if  I  am  needed,  I  will  gladly  come  to  the  help 
of  Virginia.  I  would  not  have  him  think  that  I 
have  deserted  that  noble  commonwealth  whose  aid, 
more  than  that  of  any  of  the  others,  has  enabled  me 
to  do  what  so  far  it  has  been  possible  to  accomplish 
in  this  department.  I  know  the  bravery  and  loyalty 
of  Virginians,  and  have  no  fears  for  the  result  there, 
but  these  over-ridden  South  Carolinians  must  have 
instant  succor,  if  the  State  is  not  to  be  given  over 
finally  to  the  British  and  the  Tories.  Have  you  a 
fleet  mount,  Colonel  McElroy?  " 

"  The  best  that  can  be  raised  on  my  father's  plan- 


298  DONALD  McELROY 

tation,  and  bred  from  good  English  hunting  stock." 
"  You  will  need  to  ride  swiftly,  and  persistently. 
Once  Cornwallis  gives  the  order  to  advance  —  you 
know  his  habit  —  there'll  be  no  delays,  no  deliberate 
marches." 

"  I  fully  realize  that,  General;  I  will  lose  no  time." 
"  A  somewhat  circuitous  route  might  be  the  safer : 
skirt  the  Highland  neighborhood,  though  your  route 
be  lengthened  thereby.  It  might  be  well  to  suggest 
to  Governor  Jefferson  the  extreme  importance  of 
guarding  any  army  stores  we  may  have  left  in  Vir- 
ginia, though  doubtless  the  obvious  necessity  to  do 
so  will  occur  to  him." 

"Where  shall  I  rejoin  you,  General?"  I  asked. 
"  I  cannot  say  where  one,  two  or  three  weeks  may 
find  me ;  it  depends  both  on  Cornwallis'  movements, 
and  our  successes  or  reverses,  as  we  attempt  to  re- 
lieve South  Carolina.  I  would  suggest  that  you  do 
not  try  to  rejoin  me  until  ordered  to  do  so.  Should 
Cornwallis  continue  his  advance  into  Virginia,  Gov- 
ernor Jefferson  will  need  you  to  help  to  raise  and 
command  the  militia,  doubtless.  You  may  say  that 
I  but  lend  you  to  him,  until  the  tide  of  invasion  has 
been  rolled  back  from  your  State." 

Thanking  General  Greene  for  his  confidence  im- 
plied, I  saluted,  and  went  at  once  to  my  tent  to  make 
preparations  for  departure  early  the  next  morning. 

Though  General  Cornwallis  had  the  advantage  of 
two  days'  start,  I  overtook  him  on  the  third  day,  and 
from  that  time  distanced  his  encumbered  movements 
every  hour.  Part  of  my  way  was  over  ground  he 
had  just  traversed,  part  lay  parallel  with  it,  and 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  299 

more  than  one  distressing  scene  came  under  my  ob- 
servation. Smoldering  homes,  barns,  and  hay  ricks 
sent  up  a  sodden  smoke  from  all  along  the  route,  and 
several  times  I  saw  women  and  children  sheltering, 
for  lack  of  better  place,  under  the  eaves  of  half- 
burned  ricks.  Say  the  most  one  can  for  it,  war  at 
its  best  is  but  a  grim  and  terrible  necessity. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

My  report  but  confirmed  rumors  of  the  approach 
of  Cornwallis  which  had  already  reached  Governor 
Jefferson,  and  I  found  him  wide  awake  to  Virginia's 
danger,  against  which  he  was  taking  every  precaution 
his  exhausted  resources  allowed.  He  received  me 
with  flattering  remembrance  of  our  former  meeting, 
and  an  unaffected  cordiality.  Still  more,  he  pleased 
me  by  the  letter  of  introduction  he  gave  me  to  Gen- 
eral Lafayette,  together  with  certain  dispatches  in 
which  he  spoke  of  me  in  terms  of  personal  friend- 
ship. Among  the  dispatches  was  my  special  com- 
mission to  raise  reinforcements  in  the  valley,  with 
which  I  was  to  join  Lafayette's  command  as 
promptly  as  possible. 

This  was  my  first  meeting  with  the  gallant  and  ele- 
gant Frenchman,  under  whom  I  was  to  serve  during 
the  remainder  of  our  struggle.  Morgan,  Clark, 
Greene,  and  Lafayette  were  the  four  great  leaders 
whom  I  followed  during  my  eight  years  of  military 
life.  They  were  as  different  as  four  great  souled 
men  of  warlike  genius  could  well  be  —  though  be- 
tween Morgan  and  Clark  there  was  the  kinship  of 
spirits  cast  in  primitive  heroic  mold,  a  like  resem- 
blance to  Achilles,  Priam,  Alexander  and  other 
heroes  of  an  earlier  time  —  yet  each  of  the  four  I 
could  honor  and  love  sincerely,  serving  him  with  ex- 
ulting sense  of  privilege. 

For  this  last  emergency,  recruiting  was  not  need- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  301 

ful.  I  did  not  find  it  necessary,  indeed,  to  cross  the 
mountain,  for  at  its  foot  I  met  the  grim  militiamen 
of  the  valley,  swarming  to  meet  Tarleton.  I  had 
only  to  form  them  into  a  company,  and  march  them 
to  join  Lafayette  before  he  began  his  strategical  re- 
treat toward  Fredricksburg,  with  the  double  object 
of  protecting  the  manufactory  of  arms  near  Fal- 
mouth,  and  effecting  a  junction  with  the  troops  un- 
der General  Wayne,  ordered  southward  to  reenforce 
us.  Cornwallis  followed  Lafayette,  taking  a  paral- 
lel course  to  the  eastward  of  ours.  Often  not  more 
than  twenty  miles  separated  us,  and  we  dared  not 
slacken  our  march  for  heat  or  storm  while  the 
winged  Cornwallis  gave  chase.  The  junction  with 
Wayne  before  a  battle  was  forced  upon  us  was  Gen- 
eral Lafayette's  one  hope  of  escape.  And  now,  once 
more,  it  was  the  privilege  of  the  Scotch  Irish  to  ren- 
der signal  service  to  the  cause.  To  my  company, 
and  that  of  Captain  Mercedes,  fell  the  posts  of 
honor  and  danger.  We  were  the  scouts,  the  pickets, 
the  couriers,  and  the  rear  guard  on  this  skillfully 
conducted  retreat. 

We  had  nearly  reached  the  ford  on  the  Pamun- 
key  we  had  been  pushing  for,  when  a  force  of  the 
enemy  overtook  us  and  pressed  upon  our  rear.  Gen- 
eral Lafayette  halted  and  formed  line  of  battle  with 
the  determination  to  make  a  desperate  stand.  I  had 
been  sent  for  to  reconnoiter,  on  the  first  report  of 
the  enemy's  advance,  and  soon  discovered  that  it  was 
only  a  patrolling  force,  and  that  the  main  body  of 
the  British  was  yet  some  distance  in  the  rear  of  us. 
Hastening  with  this  good  news  to  General  Lafayette, 
I  found  it  more  expeditious  to  travel  for  several 


302  DONALD  McELROY 

miles  along  the  road  recently  gone  over  by  Cornwal- 
lis'  reconnoitering  force,  and  between  that  force  and 
the  British  army.  As  was  my  rule  when  on  scout 
service,  my  squad  marched  in  close  column,  with  de- 
tail of  two  in  front,  and  two  in  rear,  as  special  look- 
outs. The  front  lookout  stopped  suddenly,  and 
seemed  to  listen;  we  approached  quickly  and  heard 
also  the  confused  sounds,  with  screaming,  and  hoarse 
wrangling,  which  had  arrested  their  attention. 
Convinced  that  the  force  in  front,  whatever  its  uni- 
form and  purpose,  could  be  but  a  small  one,  I  or- 
dered my  men  to  advance  at  double  quick,  and,  put- 
ting spurs  to  my  horse,  I  came  immediately  around 
the  bend  in  the  road  to  the  sctne  of  action. 

A  squad  of  fifteen  or  more  British  soldiers  sur- 
rounded an  overturned  post  chaise,  from  the  tangled 
harness  of  which,  four  frightened  and  struggling 
horses  were  being  extricated  by  trembling  postilions. 
In  the  midst  of  the  group  were  two  female  figures, 
one  dressed  in  black,  and  heavily  veiled,  the  other  in 
the  costume  of  a  lady's  maid.  It  was  she  who  con- 
tinued to  utter  piercing  screams,  throwing  her  hands 
about  in  the  most  tragic  manner,  and  paying  no  heed 
to  her  mistress'  low  spoken  commands.  We  were 
within  fifty  yards  of  the  group  before  the  thud  of 
our  horses  hoofs  upon  the  sandy  soil  was  loud 
enough  to  rise  above  this  confusion  of  clamors;  and 
before  the  mounted  British  could  turn,  or  the  dis- 
mounted leap  upon  their  horses,  we  had  surrounded 
them. 

"  Stack  arms:  You  are  my  prisoners!  "  I  called, 
"  and  what  means  this  cowardly  attack  upon  a  lady's 
traveling  carriage?  " 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  303 

"  You  Americans  have  a  trick  of  using  women  as 
your  spies  and  couriers,  and  then  crying  shame  upon 
us  if  we  arrest  them,  and  foil  you !  This  pretended 
widow  or  orphan  is  doubtless  stuffed  like  a  pin 
cushion  beneath  her  black  robes  with  spies'  reports, 
and  warnings  to  Jefferson !  "  replied  the  officer  in 
charge  of  the  squad,  as  he  angrily  stacked  his  gun 
beside  the  rest,  and  cast  scornful  glances  upon  the 
veiled  figure,  who,  until  then,  had  stood  haughtily 
erect  and  silent  among  them. 

"  It  is  a  false  charge !  "  she  now  answered,  spirit- 
edly; "  I  bear  no  dispatches,  convey  no  messages.  I 
but  go  to  seek  my  only  brother,  late  a  British  officer, 
now  a  wounded  prisoner,  yet  treated  by  the  courteous 
enemy  who  harbor  him,  I  doubt  not,  with  more  gen- 
tleness than  I  am  receiving  from  those  who  should 
be  most  prompt  to  succor  and  defend  me !  "  Then, 
turning  to  me,  she  continued  in  tones  less  scornful: 
"  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  inform  me,  sir,  whose 
prisoner  I  have  now  the  honor  to  be?  —  The  fortune 
of  war  may  change,  it  seems,  with  such  magic  swift- 
ness, that  one  finds  it  difficult  to  be  sure  of  one's 
present  or  one's  prospective  situation." 

"  You  are  no  one's  prisoner,  madam,"  I  replied, 
stirred  suddenly  by  familiar  tones  in  her  voice;  "  you 
are  under  the  protection,  however,  of  Virginia  troops 
commanded  by  Colonel  McElroy,  and  will  be  con- 
veyed to  some  place  of  safety  acceptable  to  you  as 
soon  as  possible."  I  had  dismounted,  meantime, 
and  stood  near  her. 

"  Can  it  be  Captain  Donald  McElroy,  of  Vir- 
ginia? "  she  said  in  lowered  and  tremulous  voice,  at 
the  same  moment  throwing  back  her  veil,  and  re- 


304  DONALD  McELROY 

vealing  the  face  of  Nelly  Buford  —  fairer  than  ever 
in  its  setting  of  rich  hair  and  banded  crepe. 

Does  a  man  ever  quite  forget  his  first  love?  Has 
its  remembrance  always  power  to  thrill  him,  even 
though  the  once  lively  sentiment  be  supplanted,  or 
outlived?  That  the  sound  of  Nelly's  voice,  and  the 
touch  of  her  hand,  could  yet  thrill  me,  was,  just  now, 
a  disturbing  revelation.  I  felt  myself  disloyal  to 
Ellen  and  so  scorned  myself  for  this  fresh  evidence 
of  weakness,  that  I  fear  my  manner  to  her  was  al- 
most haughty. 

Having  dispatched  a  courier  with  my  comforting 
news  to  General  Lafayette,  and  sent  my  prisoners 
after  him,  under  sufficient  escort,  I  ordered  the  pos- 
tilions, and  some  of  my  men,  to  right  the  carriage, 
and  make  the  harness  safe.  Then  I  joined  Nelly, 
and  relieved  her  mind  of  all  anxiety  about  her 
brother  by  telling  her  of  his  whereabouts,  and  the 
news  I  had  had  recently  that  he  was  convalescent, 
and  would  completely  recover.  Nelly's  thanks  were 
fervently  expressed  after  which  she  proceeded  to  ex- 
plain her  present  situation,  and  to  give  me  her  double 
reason  for  leaving  the  shelter  her  generous  Quaker 
friends  had  for  some  months  afforded  her  —  the 
longing  to  find  her  brother,  and  the  wish  to  relieve 
her  host  of  the  inconvenience  and  possible  danger  of 
harboring  one  of  a  family  well-known  to  be  strong 
Tory  adherents. 

The  carriage  having  been  made  ready,  Nelly  and 
her  maid  were  shut  within,  and,  preceded  and  fol- 
lowed by  mounted  escort,  Miss  Buford  was  conveyed 
in  state  to  General  Lafayette's  late  headquarters. 
We  found  the  army  gone,  and  camp  deserted,  and  I 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  305 

surmised,  that,  upon  receipt  of  my  courier's  message, 
the  general,  seeing  yet  a  chance  to  escape,  had  or- 
dered an  immediate  advance.  We  followed,  but  did 
not  overtake  the  hastily  bivouacked  army  until  past 
midnight. 

No  other  accommodation  than  that  Nelly's  car- 
riage offered  was  procurable,  and  so  I  regretfully 
informed  her,  to  be  cheerfully  assured  that  she  asked 
nothing  better,  if  she  might  have  cessation  from  jolt- 
ing, and  sense  of  security.  The  rest  of  the  hot  night 
I  stood  guard,  watching  the  languid  stars  blink  one 
by  one  to  sleep,  and  waging  lively  warfare  with  the 
swarms  of  greedy  mosquitoes,  who  constituted  them- 
selves surety  for  my  vigilance.  As  soon  as  the  first 
flush  of  morning  tinged  the  eastern  sky,  I  woke  one 
of  my  men,  and  left  him  to  guard  the  carriage  while 
I  sought  General  Lafayette.  He  was  sound  asleep 
under  a  tree  with  a  gnarled  root  for  pillow,  his  face 
and  hands  covered  by  his  blanket  to  protect  them 
from  the  swamp  pests.  Awakened  by  my  step,  he 
threw  off  his  blanket,  looked  up  at  the  sky,  and  mut- 
tered sleepily  some  unintelligible  words  in  his  own 
language. 

"  General  Lafayette?  "  I  said,  stepping  in  front  of 
him,  and  saluting,  "  I  am  Colonel  McElroy,  at  pres- 
ent in  command  of  a  company  of  Virginia  militia- 
men. Will  you  grant  me  a  few  moments  of  your 
time  while  the  camp  is  getting  ready  to  march?  " 

"  Most  certainly,  Colonel  McElroy,"  then,  in  the 
precise  English  of  the  cultivated  foreigner,  and  with 
agreeable  accent  — "  when  I  have  thanked  you  for 
this  valuable  information  sent  me  last  evening.  Ah, 
if  fortune  continues  to  favor  us,  we'll  yet  escape  the 


306  DONALD  McELROY 

bold  Cornwallis,  Colonel  McElroy !  But  we  must 
march  unceasingly,  till  we  meet  the  reinforcements 
of  General  Wayne.  Then  we'll  give  Cornwallis  the 
fight  he  seems  so  much  to  wish,  and  show  him  what 
may  be  done  by  the  united  gallantry  of  America  and 
France!  But  I  retard  your  story,  sir;  command, 
now,  my  attention." 

I  related  briefly  the  capture  of  the  British  strag- 
glers, the  rescue  of  the  young  lady,  and  added  an  ac- 
count of  my  previous  acquaintance  with  Miss  Bu- 
ford,  and  the  debt  of  gratitude  I  felt  myself  under 
to  her  family.  He  listened  with  courteous  atten- 
tion, and  responded  with  true  French  understanding 
of  such  obligation : 

"  You  can  do  nothing  less,  Colonel  McElroy,  than 
escort  the  young  woman  in  safety  to  her  brother. 
Later  I  shall  gladly  detail  such  force  to  guard  you  as 
you  may  think  necessary,  but  for  the  present  it  is 
safer  that  she  remain  with  the  army." 

"  Then  you  have  no  objection,  General  Lafayette, 
to  her  carriage  and  its  escort  traveling  between  the 
main  army  and  my  company  —  at  present  the  van 
guard?  " 

"  None,  sir  —  under  the  circumstances." 

"  I  have  still  another  favor  to  ask,  General " — 
somewhat  embarrassed  by  my  own  boldness  — "  that 
you'  will  grant  Miss  Buford  the  honor  of  an  intro- 
duction. Such  attention  from  you  as  a  brief  visit  to 
her  carriage  would  avoid  all  danger  of  familiar  acts, 
words,  or  surmise  from  any  of  the  troops  while  she 
must  be  with  us;  she  would  become  your  guest,  and 
be  under  your  personal  protection." 

"  A  shrewd  thought,  Colonel,  worthy  your  Scotch 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  307 

name,"  General  Lafayette  gayly  replied,  "  and  for 
gallantry  of  conception  not  unworthy  one  of  my  own 
countrymen!  I  consent,  with  pleasure,  and  while 
awaiting  your  orderly  shall  make  such  toilet  as  my 
very  limited  facilities  permit." 

Nelly  had  managed  in  some  mysterious  way  to  re- 
move all  traces  of  her  tiresome  journey  and  broken 
rest,  and  stood  ready  to  receive  the  general,  under 
the  canopy  of  a  blooming  magnolia,  meeting  him 
with  the  ease  of  a  society  queen,  and  responding  to 
his  gallant  speeches  with  grace  and  vivacity.  The 
susceptible  young  Frenchman  at  once  proclaimed 
himself  her  captive,  lingering  to  talk  with  her  until 
the  troops  in  front  were  moving,  and  the  rear  guard 
falling  into  line  of  march. 

Twice  during  the  day  he  rode  back  to  exchange  a 
few  words  with  her,  and  to  assure  himself  of  her 
comfort.  He  was  so  attentive,  indeed,  and  so  solic- 
itous for  her,  that  I  think  I  felt  almost  a  pang  of 
jealousy  at  being  deprived  of  the  full  credit  of  being 
the  fair  Nelly's  rescuer  and  protector. 

Our  junction  with  Wayne  was  effected  near  the 
ford  of  the  Rapidan  a  few  days  later.  Already 
Cornwallis  had  given  over  the  pursuit,  and  turned 
back  to  rejoin  Tarleton.  It  was  now  possible  for 
me  to  accept  General  Lafayette's  offer  of  a  furlough 
and  escort,  with  fair  prospect  of  safe  journey  to  the 
valley  by  circuitous  northeastern  route.  It  seemed 
my  fate,  by  some  claim  upon  my  private  sentiments 
or  some  untoward  accident,  again  and  again  to  be 
withdrawn  from  active  service  at  critical  periods  of 
our  struggle.  As  willingly  as  I  now  rendered  this 
service  to  one  to  whom  I  owed  perhaps  my  life,  I 


308  DONALD  McELROY 

sighed  inwardly  to  leave  General  Lafayette  at  a 
time  when  we  might  speedily  expect  some  chance  to 
strike  a  telling  blow.  To  the  General  I  expressed 
my  regret,  and  was  gratified  by  the  warmth  with 
which  he  assured  me  he  would  welcome  my  return 
as  soon  as  I  should  have  placed  my  fair  charge  in 
safety. 

Not  many  hours  before  we  reached  home,  when 
indeed  we  were  entering  the  valley,  I  told  Nelly  of 
an  amusing  conceit  that  had  been  running  in  my 
head,  namely  —  that  I  was  destined  for  a  rescuer  of 
fair  damsels,  using  this  as  an  introduction  to  the 
story,  I  had  been  casting  about  for  an  excuse  to  re- 
late, of  Ellen  O'Neil,  and  her  journey  to  the  west 
with  Clark.  But  the  presence  of  the  maid  kept  back 
a  full  confession,  and  Nelly's  suspicions  did  not  seem 
to  be  aroused  by  my  warm  championship.  Evi- 
dently she  thought  I  but  framed  elaborate  apologies 
for  a  kinswoman. 

Miss  Nelly's  bearing,  in  truth,  had  been  a  source 
of  disturbance  to  me  for  several  days.  She  was  so 
confiding,  so  almost  affectionate  in  her  manner,  and 
seemed  to  appropriate  me  with  such  joyous  confi- 
dence, that  it  was  difficult  not  to  meet  her  in  like 
spirit.  Not  unto  this  day  have  I  been  able  to  de- 
termine the  true  meaning  of  her  conduct  during  that 
journey.  Did  she  believe  that  I  was  yet  a  captive 
to  her  charms?  or,  was  it  but  the  natural  overflow- 
ing of  grateful,  friendly  affection?  Or  —  but  even 
as  it  came  I  reproached  myself  for  such  thought  — 
did  she  wish  to  make  me  again  her  slave,  that  she 
might  have  revenge  for  my  single  defiance  of  her 
power?  Such  reflections  and  uncertainties  disturbed 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  309 

me  more  and  more  as  we  neared  home ;  and  mixed 
with  the  gratification  of  uniting  Nelly  and  her 
brother,  and  the  happiness  I  could  but  feel  in  the 
near  prospect  of  seeing  Ellen,  was  a  sense  of  vague 
uneasiness,  of  shadowy  foreboding. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

Seldom  have  my  forebodings  gone  unverified  — 
possibly  because  I  am  not  superstitious,  and  they  are 
usually  founded  upon  some  more  or  less  clearly 
realized  cause.  I  had  not  been  home  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  till  I  felt  that  something  had  gone  wrong; 
that  the  usual  sweet  and  serene  home  atmosphere 
was  impregnated  with  an  illusive  element  of  discord. 
Every  one  capable  of  the  finer  shades  of  feeling  has 
experienced,  doubtless,  the  subtle  influence  of  an 
atmosphere,  surcharged  with  carefully  hidden  emo- 
tion that  yet  jars  each  soul,  and  sets  all  nerves 
aquiver.  Not  always,  however,  is  there  present  a 
serene,  commanding  spirit,  which  can  dissipate  the 
threatened  storm,  by  tact  and  the  sunshine  of  genial 
graciousness. 

So  did  Ellen,  being  for  a  while  my  mother's  guest, 
during  Aunt  Martha's  absence  at  a  famed  medicinal 
spring.  My  father,  strangely  stern  and  silent,  after 
his  first  hearty  greeting  for  me,  and  courteous  one 
for  his  latest  guest,  would  warm  into  fitful  geniality 
under  Ellen's  blandishments,  mother's  face  lose  its 
look  of  anxious  distress,  Jean  dimple  and  brighten 
in  the  old  way,  and  Buford  relax  somewhat  his  air 
of  dignity  and  reserve. 

Yet  the  cause  of  the  evident  gloom  hanging  over 
the  household  was,  on  the  second  day  after  my  re- 
turn, still  a  mystery;  the  entire  family  seemed  to 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  311 

have  entered  into  a  tacit  agreement  to  withhold  it 
from  me,  and  each  one  carefully  avoided  a  private 
interview.  For  a  while  it  defied  guessing  even;  I 
could  only  surmise  that  Nelly's  presence  had  compli- 
cated the  situation,  and  was  to  some  extent  the  reason 
for  my  exclusion  from  the  family  confidence.  From 
the  first  hour  I  had  seen  that  Ellen  was  surprised  by 
Nelly's  manner  to  me,  though  I  alone  guessed  her 
unconscious  resentment,  noting  the  expression  of  it 
through  an  added  flush  to  her  cheeks,  a  slightly  more 
erect  attitude  of  her  head,  and  a  firmer  tone  in  her 
voice.  Mother,  too,  had  presently  observed  Nelly's 
apparently  unconscious  appropriation  of  me,  and 
watched  us  both  anxiously;  then  Buford  seemed  to 
note  it,  looked  annoyed,  and  exchanged  a  quick 
glance  of  mingled  despair  and  tender  assurance  with 
Jean.  That  intercepted  glance  gave  me  my  first 
hint,  and  I  longed  more  than  ever  to  get  Ellen  alone, 
and  to  ask  the  score  of  questions  that  hung  upon  my 
lips. 

Through  all,  Nelly  seemed  unconscious  of  the 
false  note  in  her  welcome,  and  the  gloom  hanging 
over  the  household.  After  her  first  regret  at  finding 
that  her  brother,  though  almost  as  strong  as  ever, 
was  yet  lame,  and  likely  to  be  always  slightly  so,  she 
seemed  to  be  entirely  content  with  her  new  surround- 
ings, and  grew  blithe  as  a  child,  putting  forth  all 
her  charms  to  win  over  her  new  friends.  I,  mean- 
while, was  driven  to  despair  by  Ellen's  manner  — 
by  disappointment,  longing,  and  hope  continually  de- 
ferred. Once  more  she  was  the  unapproachable  El- 
len of  Kaskaskia  —  sweetly  dignified,  graciously 
charming,  cousinly  kind  —  yet  the  distance  of  the 


312  DONALD  MCELROY 

poles  between  us !  And,  continually,  she  found  ex- 
cuses to  leave  me  alone  with  Nelly,  constituting  me 
her  host  and  entertainer,  while  she  kept  herself  oc- 
cupied with  helping  mother  or  with  entertaining  Bu- 
ford. 

From  Thomas,  home  for  his  vacation,  the  ex- 
planation came  at  last. 

"Tom,"  I  asked  abruptly,  "what  is  the  matter? 
I  have  not  had  a  moment's  satisfaction  since  I  came 
home.  Father  is  stern,  mother  unhappy,  Jean  fever- 
ish, and  Buford  sullen.  As  for  Ellen  she  avoids  me 
as  if  I  were  a  dangerous  lunatic." 

Tom  gazed  at  me,  astonished  at  my  petulance,  and 
answered  with  provoking  calmness:  "The  trouble 
or  at  least  their  knowledge  of  it,  is  so  recent  that 
they  have  had  no  time  as  yet  to  adjust  themselves  to 
it,  and  they  do  not  know  how  you  may  take  it  — 
especially  since  they  are  in  doubt  as  to  your  relations 
with  Miss  Buford." 

"What  trouble?  Speak  out,  lad!  I'm  sick  of 
mystery." 

"  Jean's  avowed  love  for  Captain  Buford. 
Neither  your  mother  nor  your  father  suspected  their 
interest  in  each  other  until  four  days  ago,  though 
Ellen  tells  me  she  had  guessed  it  for  weeks." 

"  Well,  it  is  no  such  grave  trouble  that  the  family 
need  sink  into  despondency  because  of  it.  Buford 
is  a  Tory,  and  likely  to  be  always  a  little  lame ;  nev- 
ertheless he's  a  gentleman  by  birth  and  breeding,  and 
lacks  none  of  the  qualities  necessary  to  make  him  a 
good  husband." 

"  All  that  may  be  true,  and  yet  it  is  not  surprising 
that  Uncle  William  should  object  to  a  penniless, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  313 

lame  Tory,  and  ex-British  officer,  as  husband  for  his 
only  daughter.  Your  bringing  his  sister  here  just 
at  this  time  complicates  the  situation.  Buford  had 
decided  to  go  to  Staunton,  if  such  move  were  con- 
sistent with  the  terms  of  his  parole,  but  Miss  Bu- 
ford's  arrival  brings  him  the  double  embarrassment 
of  providing  means  for  two  to  live  upon,  and  of 
seeming  to  decline  for  his  sister  your  proffered  hos- 
pitality—  which  for  himself  he  has  so  long  ac- 
cepted." 

"  I  have  General  Morgan's  permission  to  release 
Buford  as  soon  as  he  is  well,"  I  said,  "  so  his  parole 
need  not  interfere  with  his  plans.  And  he  can  sell 
Miss  Nelly's  carriage  and  horses  if  he  is  too  proud 
to  borrow.  Perhaps  General  Morgan  can  induce 
Congress  to  restore  Buford's  confiscated  property,  so 
that  his  poverty  need  not  influence  father,  if  he  can 
bring  himself  to  forgive  his  Tory  principles.  More- 
over, I  have  always  intended  to  divide  my  western 
bounty  lands  with  Jean." 

"  If  you  are  to  marry  Miss  Buford  any  objection 
to  her  brother  as  husband  for  your  sister  would  be 
untenable." 

"  I  have  no  intention,  and  no  wish  to  marry  Miss 
Buford,"  I  responded  impatiently,  "  nor  she  to 
marry  me." 

"  She  seems  greatly  interested  in  you,  Donald, 
and  lays  open  claim  to  you.  Well,  I  despair  of  ever 
knowing  any  woman,  and  am  thankful  I  have  re- 
solved to  live  a  bachelor.  Ellen  never  treated  you 
as  familiarly  as  Miss  Buford,  after  all  your  months 
of  comradeship." 

"  Ellen  is  as  rare  among  women,  as  the  nightin- 


314  DONALD  McELROY 

gale  among  song  birds,"  I  answered,  "  but  Nelly  is 
lovable  and  womanly,  and  I  owe  her  an  unpaid  debt. 
Look  here,  Tom;  if  you'll  do  me  one  great  kind- 
ness I  will  consider  myself  under  obligations  to  you 
for  life.  Pay  Miss  Nelly  devoted  attention  for  the 
next  two  days;  take  her  for  a  long  ride  to-morrow; 
do  anything  to  give  me  a  chance  for  some  private 
talk  with  Ellen  before  I  go  back  to  the  army.  Think 
of  it,  lad,"  and  I  laid  my  hand  entreatingly  on  his 
shoulder.  "  My  furlough  is  almost  gone,  and  I 
haven't  had  a  moment  alone  with  Ellen!  I  might 
be  killed  in  the  next  battle  and  never  see  her  again ! 
She  might  take  a  sudden  resolve  and  immure  her- 
self before  I  can  return!  I  must  see  her  before  I 
go!" 

"  I'll  do  all  I  can  to  help  you,  Don,"  said  Thomas, 
with  a  long  drawn  sigh,  "  but  you  couldn't  well  ask 
a  harder  thing  of  me.  Miss  Buford,  though  pretty 
and  gay  enough,  is  not  my  style  of  woman ;  and  more- 
over, the  least  I  have  to  say  to  young  women,  now-a- 
days,  the  better  pleased  I  am !  " 

I  might  have  smiled  to  see  Thomas,  not  yet 
twenty-six,  affect  to  be  already  so  blase,  and  a  woman 
scorner.  But  I  was  too  feverishly  engrossed  with 
my  own  passionate  longings,  and  half  angry  defi- 
ance of  circumstances,  to  be  greatly  interested  in  the 
feelings  of  others  —  except  Ellen's,  upon  which  I 
knew  now  depended  all  my  hopes  of  a  life  rounded 
and  completed  as  God  meant  a  man's  to  be. 

My  next  confidential  talk  was  with  Jean.  She 
poured  out  all  her  innocent  heart  to  me,  surprising 
me  by  the  depth  of  her  feelings.  My  sympathy 
seemed  to  comfort  her  and  she  promised,  without 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  315 

urgence,  to  heed  my  counsel  for  patience  and  to  im- 
pose like  conduct  upon  Buford.  They  must  wait,  I 
told  her,  until  the  war  was  over  and  I  came  home  for 
good.  Then,  with  time  and  intercession,  there  was 
good  hope  that  she  would  win  the  full  consent  of 
our  parents,  which  meant  a  far  better  prospect  of 
happiness  than  a  union  unblessed  by  their  approval. 
I  promised  her,  too,  a  last  interview  with  Buford, 
before  he  should  leave  for  Staunton,  and  she  assured 
me  that  she  would  make  him  no  promises  I  would 
not  be  likely  to  sanction. 

A  second  plan  had  come  to  me,  which  offered,  I 
thought,  a  better  chance  to  both  Buford  and  myself 
than  my  first  one  of  sending  Thomas  and  Nelly  for 
a  long  ride  together,  which  was  to  make  up  a  horse- 
back party  to  the  big  cave,  that  Tom  and  I  had 
often  explored  in  our  boyhood  and  which  had  now 
become  a  resort  for  pleasure  parties.  It  was  but 
natural  that  I  should  wish  to  show  our  guest  the 
greatest  curiosity  in  the  neighborhood,  and  also  that 
I  should  desire  one  day's  pleasuring  before  I  should 
return  to  the  stern  duties  of  war.  I  boldly  pro- 
claimed my  plan,  therefore,  at  breakfast  table,  the 
next  morning;  it  was  warmly  seconded  by  Thomas 
and  Nelly,  and  met  with  no  spoken  opposition  from 
any  one 

A  negro  boy  was  sent  ahead,  with  cart  laden  with 
skins,  wraps,  lunch  baskets  and  candles,  and  we  fol- 
lowed on  horseback  an  hour  later.  Tom  and  Jean, 
Nelly  and  I,  Ellen  and  Buford,  we  started  out,  and 
mother  viewed  the  pairing  with  little  less  satisfaction 
than  she  would  have  an  arrangement  more  pleasing 
to  most  of  us.  Freed  from  the  suspicious  eyes  of 


316  DONALD  McELROY 

our  elders,  we  forgot  our  reserve  and  self-conscious- 
ness, and  enjoyed  the  cool,  dim  ramble  through  the 
crystal  studded  passage  ways,  and  also  our  lunch  in 
the  cool  grove  near  by,  with  the  light  chatter  after- 
ward. When  we  were  mounting  for  the  homeward 
ride,  Thomas  revived  my  waning  hopes  by  boldly 
proposing  a  change  of  partners  all  around,  coolly 
sending  Jean  off  with  Buford,  and  himself  appropri- 
ating Nelly,  leaving  Ellen  no  choice  but  to  ride  with 
me.  Even  then  I  was  like  to  be  checkmated,  for 
Ellen  kept  close  behind  Thomas  and  Nelly.  At  last 
I  grew  desperate,  and  riding  close  laid  a  restraining 
hand  upon  her  bridle,  stopping  her  horse  just  as  we 
were  about  to  enter  a  beautiful  strip  of  open  forest 
through  which  the  road  extended  for  a  mile. 

"  Ellen,"  I  said,  in  firm  tones,  "  I  must  have  an 
hour  alone  with  you.  Let  them  ride  on;  we'll  fol- 
low when  they  are  out  of  hearing.  Can  you  not 
trust  yourself  with  me  for  one  brief  ride  after  all  our 
journeying  together?  " 

Over  throat,  cheek  and  brow  came  a  sudden  glow 
of  crimson  like  that  which  was  flaming  in  the  western 
sky;  the  thick  fringed  lids  dropped  over  her  eyes, 
and  the  harp-like  vibration  I  loved  was  in  her  voice, 
as  she  said: 

"  You  cannot  doubt  I  trust  you,  Cousin  Donald; 
you  saved  me  once  from  claw  of  wild  beast,  once 
from  my  own  folly,  and  once  again  from  a  fate  worse 
than  common  death,  from  the  Indian's  torture  stake. 
I  would  trust  my  safety  to  you  under  all  circum- 
stances." 

"  But  not  your  happiness,  Ellen?  " 

"  My  happiness  would  be  but  too  safe  in  your 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  317 

hands,  dear  cousin.  One  has  not  always  the  right 
to  be  happy." 

"  And  it  is  sometimes  a  sacred  duty  to  make  one 
who  loves  you  with  every  fiber  of  his  being,  one  who 
would  die  to  save  you  sorrow,  miserable  for  life. 
Oh,  Ellen,  I  know  that  you  are  true  and  holy  beyond 
my  understanding,  yet  I  can  see  no  reason  in  this 
fixed  purpose  of  yours  to  divert  your  life  from  its 
evident  destiny." 

"  My  weakness  assents  to  all  you  say,  Cousin  Don- 
ald," and  Ellen  lifted  eyes  to  mine  that  were  ten- 
derly aglow  with  feeling,  "  but  you  have  missed  the 
true  reason  on  which  my  final  decision  must  depend. 
If  my  vow  to  God  may  be  honestly  broken,  if  I 
may  be  absolved  from  it,  it  would  be  only  because 
that  were  true  beyond  question  which  you  have  so 
earnestly  claimed  —  that  your  single  hope  of  happi- 
ness, Donald,  depends  upon  me  —  that  by  fulfilling 
my  vow,  I  should  leave  you  to  bear  the  man's 
struggle,  without  hope  of  the  man's  God-appointed 
cheer  and  solace.  But  recently  I  have  been  con- 
vinced that  no  one  woman  circumscribes  a  man's  pos- 
sibility of  happiness,  that  God  wisely  has  ordained 
a  quick  healing  for  heart  wounds.  Therefore, 
cousin,  since  happiness,  thank  God,  would  still  be 
possible  to  you  without  me,  I  am  bound  by  my  vow. 
You  will  find  some  one  to  devote  her  life  to  you  who 
is  not  of  alien  faith,  who  has  not  broken  sacred  vows 
that  she  might  come  to  you;  and  I,  meantime,  will  be 
adding  to  your  happiness  by  daily  intercessions  for 
you  before  God's  holy  altar." 

Why  it  was  I  do  not  know,  but  a  sudden  anger 
flamed  in  my  heart.  Was  I  always  to  be  answered 


3i8  DONALD  McELROY 

in  this  absurd,  illogical  way,  with  platitudes  of  holy 
vows,  and  sacred  consecration?  Were  all  my  pro- 
testations of  devotion  to  be  brushed  aside,  as  not 
worth  believing,  and  my  life's  happiness  to  weigh  as 
nothing  against  Ellen's  will,  and  pride,  her  sudden 
whims  and  conclusions?  Making  no  attempt  to  con- 
ceal my  anger  and  my  bitterness,  I  answered  her : 

"  Let  us  have  no  more  of  this  cant  of  sacred  vows, 
Ellen.  Think  you  God  has  cared  to  register  a  diso- 
bedient girl's  sick  fancy  that,  by  immolating  herself, 
she  could  render  Him  special  homage,  or  add  one 
ounce  to  His  power  and  His  influence?  You  say  I 
do  not  need  your  life,  that  I  can  find  happiness  with- 
out you  —  thus  casting  back  my  words  as  too  light 
for  belief,  and  my  heart,  my  very  soul,  as  of  small 
value  beside  your  vaunted  vow.  I  would  I  could  be- 
lieve, Ellen,  that  happiness  were  possible  for  me 
without  you.  But  it  is  too  late  for  that,  and  if  in 
perversity  of  stubborn  superstition  you  condemn  me 
to  a  lonely,  loveless  life,  I  can  but  endure  it  with  such 
fortitude  as  I  may  learn  to  command.  It  would 
seem  to  me  but  poor  reflection  for  quiet  convent 
hours  —  that  an  honest  man's  life  had  been  wrecked 
—  that  a  noble  family  name  had  perished  from  the 
earth  —  all  that  one  more  nun  might  count  her  beads 
and  offer  up  prayers  in  needless  repetition  to  an  all 
powerful  God  who  has  no  need  of  such  mummery 
to  help  him  rule  with  eternal  wisdom  a  universe  of 
worlds." 

"  So  far  apart  are  we  in  mind  and  heart,  Donald 
McElroy,"  answered  Ellen,  with  flashing  eyes,  hav- 
ing reined  her  horse  to  a  standstill  that  she  might 
fully  face  me,  "  if  these  be  your  true  sentiments,  that 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  319 

never  could  we  hope  to  be  one  in  spirit;  never  would 
I  dare  to  unite  my  life  with  yours,"  and,  putting  whip 
to  her  horse,  she  joined  Thomas  and  Nelly,  nor 
deigned  to  show  consciousness  of  my  presence  again 
that  evening. 

The  next  day  she  kept  her  room,  "  with  head- 
ache," said  Jean.  The  morning  after  she  came 
down  only  at  the  last  moment  to  say  good-by  to  our 
guests  and  me.  Vainly  I  sought  the  chance  to  whis- 
per my  regret  and  repentance  in  her  ear;  she  was 
careful  to  give  me  opportunity  only  for  a  formal 
farewell  in  the  presence  of  them  all. 

To  Buford  and  his  sister  I  said  good-by,  after  I 
had  settled  them  comfortably  in  Staunton,  almost 
with  coolness.  They,  it  seemed  to  me,  had  repaid 
my  generous  wish  to  more  than  return  their  kindness 
by  a  crass  indifference  to  my  feelings. 

Then  I  faced  to  the  scene  of  war,  once  more,  with 
fierce  satisfaction.  For  the  first  time  I  felt  a  thirst 
for  danger.  Since  I  had  thrown  away  all  chance  for 
happiness,  I  would  win  a  glorious  death  in  the  last 
glorious  and  successful  struggle  of  my  country  for 
liberty  1 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

The  battle  of  Green  Spring,  fought  the  third  day 
after  I  had  rejoined  General  Lafayette  —  that  gal- 
lant officer  being  now  in  pursuit  of  Cornwallis,  who 
was  slowly  retreating  to  a  less  hazardous  position, 
near  the  sea  coast  —  was  the  one  engagement  La- 
fayette allowed  himself  during  the  tedious  game  of 
march  and  countermarch  at  which  the  opposed 
armies  had  been  playing  for  three  months.  Fight- 
ing was  much  more  to  the  taste  of  the  ardent  Lafay- 
ette, but  he  had  learned  the  art  of  war  in  the  school 
of  Washington,  and  knew  that  a  timely  and  skillful 
retreat  is  often  worth  more  than  a  victory.  By  such 
"  Fabian  policy  "  as  the  great  leader  himself  had  con- 
descended to  use,  to  the  open  scorn  of  his  enemies, 
Lafayette  had  completely  aborted  the  concerted  in- 
vasion of  Virginia,  and  had  gradually  turned  Corn- 
wallis on  to  the  open  mouth  of  the  trap  which  was 
later  to  prove  so  fatal  to  him.  The  fight  above 
mentioned  was  undecisive,  and  had  no  other  effect 
than  to  hurry  Cornwallis'  retreat  to  the  seashore  — 
at  a  dear  cost  to  us  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  men. 

At  Yorktown,  the  British  awaited  their  fleet  with 
convoys  of  needed  supplies,  and  hoped  daily  for  re- 
enforcements  from  General  Clinton;  meantime  work- 
ing industriously  to  entrench  themselves.  We  sat 
down  at  Malvern  Hill,  watching,  like  a  bull-dog  be- 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  321 

fore  his  enemy's  gate.  The  sea  protected  Cornwal- 
lis'  position  on  three  sides,  and  a  few  days  sufficed 
to  erect  strongly  fortified  works  on  their  fourth  — 
there  was  small  chance  for  the  bull-dog,  unless  the 
desired  prey  could  somehow  be  driven  from  cover. 
But  he  crouched  and  waited  on.  This  stubborn  vigi- 
lance was  rewarded  on  the  last  day  of  August  when 
the  flagship  of  Count  de  Grasse  sailed  into  the  Chesa- 
peake Bay  at  the  head  of  the  French  fleet. 

Our  camp  went  mad  with  joy  as  the  three  thousand 
French  troops  under  Marquis  de  Saint  Simon  landed 
to  unite  with  us,  and  on  the  next  day  we  took  posi- 
tion across  the  neck  of  the  peninsula  at  Williams- 
burg.  Cornwallis  was  in  the  trap,  and  Lafayette 
had  sprung  shut  the  last  door  which  offered  possible 
chance  of  escape.  Admiral  Graves  with  the  English 
fleet  arrived  too  late.  We  watched  anxiously  the 
naval  battle  between  him  and  Count  de  Grasse,  and 
exulted  wildly  when  the  defeated  fleet  sailed  away. 
Nine  days'  later,  General  Washington  arrived,  his 
presence  the  final  assurance  of  coming  victory,  and 
close  on  his  heels  the  whole  northern  army;  by  the 
twenty-sixth  of  September,  the  American  and  French 
forces  confronting  Cornwallis  were  sixteen  thousand 
strong.  It  was  only  a  question  of  days  now.  The 
brave  British,  inspired  ever  by  the  intrepid  Cornwal- 
lis, could  not  hold  out  long  in  their  cramped  condi- 
tion, without  adequate  supplies,  and  decimated  daily 
by  the  deadly  fire  we  were  presently  ready  to  pour 
into  the  town.  Our  first  parallel  was  opened  on 
the  sixth  of  October ;  the  men  were  so  impatient  with 
the  prospect  of  speedy  victory  after  our  long  struggle 
against  heavy  odds,  and  so  reckless  with  mad  en- 


322  DONALD  MCELROY 

thusiasm,  that  it  took  all  the  authority  of  the  older 
and  more  prudent  officers  to  restrain  acts  of  needless 
risk  and  exposure. 

That  night  —  I  had  helped  to  fire  the  first  guns 
and  had  witnessed  the  fearful  havoc  they  made 
among  the  enemy's  redoubts  —  my  whole  being  was 
in  such  tumult  from  violent  and  conflicting  emotions 
that  I  could  not  sleep.  Patriotic  joy  uplifted  my 
soul  to  a  fervor  of  grateful  emotion  one  moment,  and 
in  the  next,  a  wave  of  depression  overwhelmed  me. 
Apples  of  Sodom  would  be  even  the  success  of  the 
cause,  which  so  long  and  so  fervently  I  had  cherished, 
if  the  future  held  for  me  no  hope  of  Ellen's  love,  no 
promise  of  Ellen's  companionship!  Ah,  if  I  had 
not  lost  my  last  chance  by  the  rashness  of  my  tongue  ! 
had  not  thrown  away  my  life's  happiness  by  yielding 
to  unreasoning  anger ! 

Had  I  but  explained  my  true  situation  and  feel- 
ings in  regard  to  Nelly  Buford  before  I  began  to 
urge  my  suit  so  commandingly,  I  might  have  had 
hope,  at  least,  to  feed  upon,  instead  of  the  certainty 
of  disappointment.  Yet  why  admit  failure?  If 
General  Washington  had  done  so  after  Long  Island, 
General  Greene  after  Guilford;  where  would  be  to- 
day the  cause  of  American  liberty?  No,  I  would 
not  recognize  defeat!  I  would  fight  on  till  no  ray 
of  hope  was  left  me.  This  very  night  I  would  make 
a  last  appeal  to  Ellen  —  set  before  her  once  again, 
but  more  persuasively,  all  the  reasons  and  arguments 
that  to  me  seemed  so  clear.  So  I  lit  my  last  end  of 
candle,  took  my  board  upon  my  knee,  found  a  bottle 
of  pokeberry  ink,  sharpened  a  quill  and  wrote  —  the 
ardent  words  flowing  from  my  quill's  end  more  freely 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  323 

than  the  thin  purplish  red  fluid  in  which  I  tran- 
scribed them : 

"  Dear  Heart  of  my  Heart: 

"  Past  midnight,  and  this  vast  camp  lies  wrapt  in 
slumber.  No  sounds  disturb  the  star  lighted  peace 
save  now  and  then  the  faint  call  of  the  sentinels,  and 
the  distant  roaring  of  an  occasional  gun,  fired  from 
our  first  parallel  which  we  opened  to-day.  To  my 
tent,  far  in  the  rear  of  our  front  line,  these  sounds 
come  softened  into  the  musical  echo  of  to-day's  joy- 
ous excitement,  and  hint  of  to-morrow's  glorious 
promise.  Though  the  sweet  and  brooding  peace  of 
the  night,  the  benediction  of  the  stars,  and  the  ca- 
resses of  a  gentle  breeze,  all  woo  my  tired  limbs  and 
excited  mind  to  needed  repose,  my  heart  is  too  full 
of  longing  thoughts  of  you,  dear  Ellen,  to  admit 
sleep ! 

"  I  see  your  dear  face  as  last  I  saw  it,  flushed,  hurt, 
angry,  and  hear  that  voice,  whose  tender  tremor  is 
the  sweetest  music  my  ears  have  known,  ring  sharp 
and  firm  in  those  words  which  were  the  death  knell 
of  my  hopes.  In  no  other  mood  than  that  one,  in 
which  I  have  seen  you  so  rarely,  can  I  recall  you  — 
the  hurt  and  angry  state  so  foreign  to  your  warm 
and  generous  nature.  Yet  I  cannot  upbraid  you, 
dearest,  or  in  anywise  blame  you,  that  last  I  saw  you 
in  a  mood  which  so  ill-becomes  you,  for  I  was  its  just 
occasion.  I  was  too  impetuous,  too  assertive,  dear 
one.  I  knew  it  ere  the  rashness  left  me,  and  would 
have  given  my  right  arm  to  have  been  able  to  blot 
my  foolish  words  from  your  memory.  I  longed  to 
explain,  to  implore  your  forgiveness,  to  humble  my- 


324  DONALD  McELROY 

self  before  you,  and  to  recall  all  I  had  said  that 
could  give  you  offense  —  but  you  gave  me  no  oppor- 
tunity; was  it  not,  mavourneen,  a  needlessly  cruel 
punishment  to  deny  me  a  last  chance  to  beg  for 
mercy,  a  moment  to  say  farewell?  Yet,  dear  one, 
though  I  expressed  myself  rudely,  and  went  too  far, 
much  of  what  I  said  was  true,  as  your  generous 
spirit  has  already  admitted  when  you  have,  with 
characteristic  nobleness  of  soul,  recalled  my  words 
in  the  hope  of  finding  excuses  for  me. 

"  Perhaps  before  this  letter  reaches  you  —  it  goes 
by  special  courier  to  Richmond,  with  General  Wash- 
ington's dispatches  to  Governor  Jefferson  —  a  glori- 
ous victory  will  be  ours.  General  Cornwallis  and 
his  army  are  completely  surrounded,  and  must  sur- 
render in  a  few  days.  This  will  end  the  war,  think 
all  the  officers,  and  bring  us  peace  with  Great 
Britain  upon  liberal  terms.  The  United  States  of 
America  will  be  a  free  republic,  and  before  us 
stretches  a  noble  future  with  the  grandest  possibili- 
ties that  the  mind  of  statesmen  have  yet  been  able 
to  conceive.  We  shall  have  a  free  representative 
government  administered  by  noble  patriots,  such  as 
Washington,  Jefferson  and  Adams.  We  shall  abol- 
ish all  prerogatives  of  class,  party  and  creed;  not 
only  life,  liberty,  and  pursuit  of  happiness  will  be  free 
to  all,  but  entire  freedom  of  religious  thought  and 
free  speech  will  be  the  unquestioned  right  of  all  the 
inhabitants  of  America.  And  not  only  freedom,  but 
prosperity  will  be  within  reach  of  all.  The  wide 
and  fertile  plains  of  the  West  await  but  the  claim  of 
the  settler  to  constitute  a  rich  heritage.  My  heart 
thrills  at  the  realization  of  the  vast  territory  which 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  325 

Clark  and  his  handful  of  Virginians  added  to  that 
country  which  shall  be  called  the  American  Repub- 
lic. And  you,  Ellen,  and  I  had  our  share  in  that 
glorious  enterprise.  Can  any  citizen  of  America  fail 
to  experience  the  glow  of  a  true  patriot's  fervor,  a 
thrill  of  true  patriot's  pride,  upon  contemplation  of 
the  noble  destiny  which  a  glowing  future  seems  to 
promise  our  land  —  with  Freedom's  crown  upon  it? 
A  destiny  that  will  be  shared  with  all  who  come  to 
us. 

"  But  oh,  heart  of  my  heart,  my  joy  and  exultation 
for  my  country  are  overcast  with  the  gloom  of  de- 
spair !  despair  of  any  hope  for  my  own  life,  any  hap- 
piness for  my  own  heart.  Even  my  joy  in  our  vic- 
tory will  be  but  the  dim  shadow  of  what  it  would  be 
for  my  spirit  is  sick  from  this  gnawing  regret,  and 
despair,  eating  daily  deeper  and  deeper  into  my 
heart,  till  all  buoyancy  has  left  me,  and  I  have 
longed  for  death.  That  madness  is  past,  dear  El- 
len, else  I  would  not  tell  you  of  it,  but  in  truth  I 
have  sought  death  for  days,  as  a  mother  seeks  a  lost 
child,  wooed  it  as  a  lover  wooes  his  mistress  while 
yet  there  is  hope.  Not  even  death  would  come  to 
my  relief  —  and  now  I  see  it  was  a  weakness  to  have 
sought  it,  a  blasphemy  to  have  prayed  for  it.  I 
shall  live  out  as  even  I  must,  the  span  allotted  to  me, 
and  strive  at  least  for  the  patience  of  hopeless  resig- 
nation. 

"  Two  pictures,  Ellen,  haunt  the  sick  visions  of  my 
idle,  waking  hours,  and  glide  nightly  through  my 
dreams.  One  is  that  which  might  have  been,  the 
other  that  which,  alas,  likely  will  be!  I  see  a  spa- 
cious mansion,  crowning  a  green  and  gently  sloping 


326  DONALD  McELROY 

hill;  its  wide  windows  open  to  the  sweet  air  and 
gracious  sunshine  of  Virginia;  its  doors  hospitably 
spread  to  welcome  kinsmen,  friends,  neighbors,  or 
wayfarers,  whether  bringing  or  needing  blessing. 
At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  seen  from  the  broad 
verandas,  stretch  luxuriant  meadows,  where  sleek 
horses  and  lazy  herds  of  cattle  wade  knee  deep  in 
blossoming  grass,  and  pink  headed  clover. 

"  Roses,  lilies,  and  pinks  bloom  in  the  garden  be- 
hind the  house,  and  their  fragrance  floats  in  through 
doors  and  windows.  Music  too  is  there,  for  happy, 
unmolested  birds  sing  their  praises  to  their  Creator, 
and  the  sweetest  voice  in  all  the  world  speaks  kindly 
to  contented  slave,  or  happy  child,  or  croons  tenderly 
to  the  rosy  infant.  And  beauty  is  there,  rarer  than 
that  of  the  fair  landscape  to  be  glimpsed  through 
doors  and  windows,  for  the  fairest,  loveliest  woman 
in  Virginia  fills  this  happy  home  with  her  sweet  per- 
vading presence,  and  casts  over  it  a  rare  and  name- 
less charm  —  a  spell  which  brings  to  all  its  inmates, 
from  master  to  slave,  from  visiting  friend  to  chance 
guest,  a  sense  of  assured  comfort  and  cheerful  con- 
tent —  Does  not  your  heart  tell  you,  oh,  heart  of 
my  heart,  that  such  home  might  be  ours !  and  can 
you  conceive  for  any  woman,  even  for  my  own  rare 
Ellen,  a  nobler  destiny  than  to  be  the  mistress  of  such 
home,  the  priestess  of  such  heart  shrine? 

"  But  the  other  picture !  A  gloomy  convent  cell 
in  which  a  spirit-worn  one  —  whose  lingering  beauty 
glads  no  tender  heart,  charms  no  eye  of  love  — 
kneels  with  face  of  despair,  to  pray  for  grace  not  to 
loathe  a  life  of  useless  sacrifice,  of  cloistered  inac- 
tion,—  so  little  suited  to  an  ardent  and  loving  soul, 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  327 

so  fruitless  in  bringing  real  peace,  true  heart  renun- 
ciation,—  a  life  of  small  service  to  man  or  God,  and 
of  worth  only  because  it  brings  to  the  heavy-hearted 
nun  daily  self  wrestlings.  And  ever  as  she  prays 
there  comes  between  her  and  the  Christ  vision  for 
which  she  yearns,  and  hourly  implores  her  God,  the 
sad  face  of  a  man,  old  before  his  time,  and  hope- 
lessly resigned  to  sit  in  listless  idleness  by  another's 
fireside,  because  he  has  no  heart  for  one  of  his  own. 

"  His  old  comrades  and  friends  have  built  for 
themselves  spacious  homes,  transformed  the  wilder- 
ness into  rich  estates,  carved  out  useful  and  honor- 
able careers,  and  are  counted  among  those  Virgin- 
ians who  are  laying  broad  and  deep  the  foundations 
of  country,  state,  and  family.  But  he,  lacking  the 
dear  responsibilities  of  wife  and  children,  having  no 
descendants  to  carry  the  name  in  honorable  memory 
and  emulation  to  future  generations,  has  dropped  out 
of  the  struggle,  given  over  the  race;  and,  broken- 
hearted and  despairing,  lives  only  to  recall  the  mem- 
ories of  an  active  and  inspired  youth. 

"  Can  you,  Ellen,  mavourneen,  contemplate  this 
last  vision,  and  not  be  moved  to  the  thought  that 
such  end  for  God-endowed  spirits,  destined  to  com- 
plete each  other's  lives,  were  indeed  a  fearful  sacri- 
fice? That  the  tears,  regrets  and  prayers  of  the  nun 
would  be  but  poor  recompense  to  God  —  if  there  can 
be  a  reckoning  between  man  and  his  Maker  —  for 
two  unfulfilled  lives,  and  lost  generation  after  gen- 
eration of  human  souls  adequately  gifted  by  noble 
birth,  and  honest  inheritance,  with  health,  comeliness, 
happiness,  and  opportunities,  and  trained  in  love  of 
country,  love  of  progress,  love  of  virtue,  love  of 


328  DONALD  McELROY 

God!  My  children  shall  have  no  other  mother, 
Ellen,  should  you  finally  determine  to  let  your  super- 
stition stifle  your  heart;  know  that  in  doing  so  you 
cut  off  from  the  earth  the  race  of  McElroy.  Last 
male  of  the  line  am  I,  and  vowed  to  go  childless  to 
my  grave  unless  my  offspring  may  call  mother  the 
one  woman  who  is  the  love  of  my  life,  heart  of  my 
heart,  hope  and  inspiration  of  my  soul! 

"  As  soon  as  General  Cornwallis  surrenders  I 
shall  ask  for  a  furlough,  and  come  home  for  my  final 
answer.  Oh,  my  Ellen,  dearest  of  dear  ones,  will 
you  not  crown  my  rejoicing,  make  of  true  worth  to 
me  our  hard-won  victory !  and  fill  one  patriot's  breast 
with  that  supreme  happiness  of  love  accepted  and  re- 
turned which  is  the  wine  of  men's  souls,  the  one 
elixir  which  can  furnish  them  with  courage  and  in- 
spiration for  the  constantly  repeated  struggles  and 
continually  renewed  efforts  of  life ! 

"  May  that  God  who  is  your  God  and  mine,  the 
God  of  your  fathers  and  the  God  of  mine,  come  to 
you  in  dream  or  vision,  through  word  of  saint  or 
prophet,  and  open  your  eyes  to  see,  as  I  see,  that  des- 
tiny which  is  the  noblest  and  holiest  for  woman! 
Yet  always,  dear  one,  whether  the  happiest,  or  the 
most  sorely  bereft  of  men,  I  shall  be 

"  Your  true  and  loyal  friend,  your  sworn  knight, 
your  devoted  lover, 

"  DONALD  MCELROY." 

My  candle  sputtered  feebly  in  its  last  effort  to  do 
its  duty  as  I  folded  and  sealed  my  letter.  As  I 
crossed  the  camp  in  search  of  the  courier,  the  form- 
less dull  gray  of  the  eastern  landscape  was  suddenly 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  329 

aroused  by  the  yet  unrealized  promise  of  the  coming 
sun,  and  soon  appeared  a  glow  of  life,  under  whose 
influence  the  bolder  features  of  the  landscape  began 
slowly  to  assume  their  natural  forms.  Half  an  hour 
later,  when  I  was  returning  to  my  tent,  the  whole  east 
was  glowing  gorgeously  and  every  smallest  detail  of 
the  landscape  was  limnad  in  vivid  light.  Nature  was 
pulsing  with  life  in  every  part,  beneath  the  first  kiss 
of  the  sun.  So  would  a  word  of  kindness  from  Ellen 
scatter  the  heavy,  chill  mist  from  my  heart,  and  set 
my  whole  nature  a-quiver  with  a  new  life  of  hope 
and  joy. 

To  history  belongs  the  record  of  those  brave  days 
when  American  and  Frenchman  vied  with  one  an- 
other in  deeds  of  daring  gallantry,  and  when  hour  by 
hour  our  long  delayed  reward  came  nearer.  Gen- 
eral Cornwallis  made  a  brave  resistance,  and  delayed 
surrender  almost  to  the  point  of  madness.  Our  final 
exultation  —  the  day  Cornwallis  gave  up  his  sword, 
and  the  long  line  of  our  prisoners  marched  between 
our  lines  to  stack  arms  —  was,  indeed,  much  softened 
by  respectful  admiration  and  sympathy  for  our  gal- 
lant late  foes,  and  their  broken-hearted  General. 

As  we  all  know  family  quarrels  are  usually  the  bit- 
terest, but  somehow  this  long  contest  between  the 
American  colonies  and  the  mother  country  did  not 
seem  to  breed  any  deep-seated  animosity  between 
their  respective  peoples.  It  may  have  been  that  the 
people  of  England  —  as  certainly  some  of  their 
statesmen  did  —  recognized  that  we  were  but  leading 
the  vanguard  of  progress  toward  a  happier  order  for 
all  nations.  England  is  not  fond  of  experiments,  yet 


330  DONALD  McELROY 

none  are  more  freedom  loving  than  her  sons.  They 
have  but  moved  on  more  conservatively,  more  delib- 
erately to  their  goal. 

Or  perhaps  the  happy  absence  of  any  lasting  bit- 
terness may  have  been  due  to  the  circumstance  that 
our  war  —  except  for  its  few  Indian  episodes  —  was 
conducted  with  as  little  savagery  as  war  may  well  be. 
Whatever  the  explanation,  it  is  true  that  in  two  days 
after  Cornwallis'  surrender  the  officers  and  men  of 
the  two  armies  were  fraternizing  like  brothers,  and 
not  a  few  of  our  late  enemies  were  already  declaring 
their  intention  to  remain  in  this  new  land  of  promise 
and  to  cast  in  their  lot  with  the  American  Republic. 

At  a  banquet  given  by  our  colonels  to  those  of  the 
British  army,  toasts  were  drunk  to  a  firmly  cemented 
and  lasting  peace  between  our  respective  countries 
and  then  to  a  steadfast  alliance  between  England  and 
America.  In  response  to  the  last  of  these  I  ventured 
the  prophecy  that  the  two  great  English-speaking 
peoples  would  not  only  be  bound  together  presently 
by  ties  of  blood  and  language  into  a  close  alliance  for 
mutual  welfare,  but  that  side  by  side  they  would  go 
forward  toward  higher  and  higher  ideals  of  free  gov- 
ernment and  universal  brotherhood,  pointing  the  way 
to  a  nobler  civilization  than  had  yet  been  conceived. 
Carried  away  by  my  own  fervor,  I  even  predicted  a 
time  when  the  two  nations,  England  and  the  United 
States  of  America,  that  was  to  be,  supported  by 
France  perhaps,  would  make  the  last  fight  against 
autocratic  power  and  military  rule,  to  conquer  the 
world  for  democracy  —  to  the  end  that  war  might 
forever  cease,  and  the  world  begin  to  be  made  ready 
for  the  coming  of  the  "  Prince  of  Peace." 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  331 

It  was  a  perfervid  and  wild  harangue  doubtless, 
and  some  of  my  fellow-officers  who  heard  it  never 
ceased  to  twit  me  about  my  one  burst  of  eloquence. 
Nevertheless,  it  seemed  at  the  time  to  chime  in  with 
the  mood  of  my  hearers,  who  soundly  applauded 
these  sentiments.  If  events  since,  and  especially 
more  recent  ones,  have  made  me  appear  but  a  poor 
prophet,  I  am  still  not  ready  to  withdraw  my  predic- 
tion, and  I  still  believe  that  the  destiny  of  humanity 
lies  in  the  keeping  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  peoples,  who 
will,  I  yet  maintain,  go  steadily  forward  through 
mistakes  and  errors  to  a  better  understanding  and  a 
closer  friendship. 

General  Lafayette  granted  my  request  for  fur- 
lough with  playful  jest  about  the  fair  refugee  who 
awaited  my  coming,  and  my  blush  and  stammer 
doubtless  confirmed  his  suspicions.  I  lost  no  more 
time  getting  home  than  I  could  help,  you  may  be 
sure,  but  every  man  I  met  stopped  me  to  get  details 
of  the  big  news,  which  had  spread  like  fairy  fire,  and 
men,  women,  and  children  ran  out  to  question  me  as 
I  passed  each  hamlet. 

Jean  was  on  the  porch  enjoying  the  bracing  balmi- 
ness  of  a  bright  October  afternoon  when  I  rode  up, 
and  ran  with  glad  cry  to  meet  me.  Father  and 
mother  were  gone  to  Staunton  for  the  day  —  father 
to  get  further  news,  mother  to  lay  in  the  fall  sup- 
plies —  and  Ellen  was  back  again  with  Aunt  Martha, 
whose  health  failed  more  and  more,  so  that  Ellen 
was  her  chief  dependence.  All  this  Jean  told  me 
and  more,  while  she  urged  upon  me  the  laziest 
chair,  and  brought  sangaree  and  spiced  cake  to  re- 
fresh me. 


332  DONALD  McELROY 

"  You,  dear  Jean,  are  well  again  and  happy  if 
your  face  is  index  to  your  feelings,"  I  said,  when  my 
first  eager  questions  had  been  answered.  "  Have 
father  and  mother  already  been  won  over  to  Buford's 
cause?  I  knew  they  never  could  stand  to  see  our 
little  maid  wear  sad  face,  and  lose  all  her  pretty 
bloom." 

"  It  was  not  all  done  by  my  reproachful  looks," 
she  answered,  smiling  and  blushing.  "  Ellen's  influ- 
ence more  than  any  other  has  changed  them.  Oh, 
Donald,  she  is  the  dearest  girl,  and  her  tact  is  won- 
derful! Neither  father  nor  mother  know  when  it 
was  done,  but  gradually  she  has  made  them  like  Cap- 
tain Buford,  till  now  they  are  willing  for  his  sake  as 
well  as  for  mine.  Mother  told  me  yesterday  that 
they  but  waited  for  your  full  approval  to  withdraw 
all  objection  to  our  marriage." 

"  Then,  little  sister,  Buford's  happiness  is  assured, 
and  yours  too,  I  believe.  He  is  a  brave  and  an  hon- 
orable gentleman,  and  likely  to  make  his  wife  a 
happy  woman.  His  poverty,  for  most  of  his  prop- 
erty will  be  confiscated,  doubtless,  is  the  one  draw- 
back, but  if  I  get  my  western  bounty  lands,  I  shall 
be  able  to  make  up  for  that.  A  deed  to  one-half  of 
my  share  shall  be  my  wedding  gift  to  you." 

"  Dear  Donald,  you  are  the  very  dearest  of 
brothers,"  and  Jean  perched  herself  upon  the  arm 
of  my  chair,  kissed  my  forehead,  and  began  to 
thread  my  somewhat  neglected  locks  with  her  slender 
fingers.  "  Will  you  think  me  presumptuous,  brother, 
if  I  ask  you  a  personal  question?  "  she  began  pres- 
ently, with  apparent  hesitation. 

"  I  can  hardly  think  of  a  question  my  little  sister 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  333 

would  not  have  the  right  to  ask  me,"  turning  my  head 
to  smile  encouragement  upon  her. 

"  Did  you  ever  think  Nelly  Buford  a  coquette?  " 
she  asked,  waiting  for  my  answer  with  amusing  anx- 
iety. 

"  Can  any  one  who  has  ever  known  her  exonerate 
her  from  the  charge?  "  I  replied  with  a  smile  — "  un- 
less it  is  Buford,  who  has  never  guessed  his  sister's 
weakness.  Is  it  high  treason  in  his  eyes  for  his 
prospective  wife  to  harbor  such  suspicions?  " 

"Oh,  we  never  discuss  family  matters;  I  was 
thinking  only  of  your  opinion  of  Nelly." 

"  Is  my  judgment  upon  coquettes  so  valuable?  " 

"Then  you  do  not  love  Nelly,  Donald?  Oh! 
I'm  so  glad  !  " 

"  No,  I  do  not  love  Nelly  Buford,  though  she's  a 
winsome  maiden.  But  why  rejoice,  little  sister? 
Do  you  disapprove  of  too  close  family  entangle- 
ments? " 

"  I  could  not  be  happy  if  it  were  not  so,"  Jean 
responded  enigmatically. 

"  And  why?  "  Indifferent  to  Jean's  meaning,  my 
thoughts  wandered  off  to  the  far  greater  likelihood 
of  my  love  for  Ellen  bringing  me  unhappiness. 

"  She  has  promised  to  marry  Thomas !  " 

"Thomas?"  I  almost  sprang  from  my  chair 
with  surprise.  "  Thomas  and  Nelly  Buford  to  be 
married?  "  and  then  I  laughed  long  and  heartily. 

Jean  laughed  too.  "  It  is  funny,  Don,  for  at  first 
Thomas  barely  endured  Nelly.  I  believe  his  indif- 
ference nettled  her  into  a  determination  to  win  him. 
She  seems  entirely  unsuited  to  a  parson's  wife,  much 
less  a  missionary's.  Thomas  declares  he  is  going  to 


334  DONALD  McELROY 

Kentucky  as  a  border  missionary,  and  that  Nelly  is 
willing  to  go  with  him  anywhere." 

"  And  give  up  her  Tory  principles,  and  her  Epis- 
copal faith?  Wonder  of  wonders  is  this  love  which 
overleaps  all  barriers  as  easily  as  a  hunter  takes  his 
ditch.  Does  Ellen  know  of  this?  " 

"  Yes,  and  seems  to  be  very  happy  over  it.  I  think 
she  feels  now  for  the  first  time  easy  in  conscience, 
since  Thomas'  happiness,  as  well  as  his  calling  is 
assured." 

"  And  what  says  Aunt  Martha?  " 

"  She  says  very  little  about  it,  though  we  all  know 
that  Nelly  would  not  have  been  her  choice  for 
Thomas.  She  told  Ellen,  when  first  she  heard  it, 
that  she  had  interfered,  already,  too  much  with  the 
lives  that  other  people  had  to  live,  and  that  she  no 
longer  felt  that  confidence  in  her  own  judgment  she 
once  had;  that  humility  was  the  latest  flower  of  her 
Christian  experience,  and  though  but  a  weak  and 
sickly  bloom,  she  wished  to  cherish  it." 

"  Poor  Aunt  Martha.  She  has  suffered  much, 
then?" 

"  Yes,  but  mother  and  Ellen  say  she  has  grown 
daily  gentler  under  her  sufferings." 

"  Only  natures  of  true  worth  are  '  refined  by  the 
furnace  of  affliction,'  to  my  observation  —  Aunt 
Martha  evidently  deserved  not  the  youthful  scorn  I 
felt  for  her.  But  tell  me  more  of  Ellen  —  she  is, 
you  think,  really  happy  to  be  Aunt  Martha's  nurse?  " 

"  Yes,  Ellen  is  more  light-hearted  recently  than  I 
have  ever  known  her;  Aunt  Martha  called  her,  talk- 
ing to  mother  yesterday,  '  a  well-spring  of  happi- 
ness,' and  said  it  made  her  very  thankful  when  she 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  335 

considered  how  Providence  had  forced  upon  her  a 
daughter  against  her  time  of  need,  in  spite  of  her 
utter  undeservingness." 

Scarcely  could  I  wait  to  greet  my  parents,  I  was 
so  eager  to  see  Ellen,  to  fathom  the  true  cause  of 
her  unaccustomed  gayety  of  spirits,  which  even  the 
love-absorbed  Jean  had  noticed.  I  found  her  so  busy 
with  household  duties,  and  attentions  to  Aunt  Mar- 
tha, that  I  was  obliged  to  content  myself,  after  the 
first  greetings  —  which  told  me  without  need  of 
words  that  I  was  forgiven  —  with  the  vision  of  her 
flitting  about  busily,  and  the  exchange  of  an  occa- 
sional meaningless  remark.  When  reluctantly  I 
rose  to  go,  Uncle  Thomas  asked  me  to  stay  to  tea, 
and  I  accepted  so  eagerly,  that  I  think  Aunt  Martha 
guessed,  at  last,  my  secret.  Either  because  of  that, 
or  the  way  my  truant  gaze  followed  Ellen's  every 
movement.  At  any  rate  she  surmised  the  real  rea- 
son of  my  prompt  visit  to  them,  and  when  supper 
was  over,  came  to  my  help  with  something  of  my 
own  mother's  tactfulness. 

"  Donald,"  she  said,  "  take  Ellen  out  to  the  porch, 
and  make  her  rest  while  you  tell  her  all  about  York- 
town  —  as  you  told  it  to  me  while  she  was  at  the 
dairy;  Ellen  never  takes  time  to  rest  unless  I  make 
her.  Thomas  will  sit  with  me." 

For  a  while  we  talked  perfunctorily,  and  with  em- 
barrassed self-consciousness,  like  children  who  are 
bidden  to  be  sociable ;  and  I  did  describe  to  her  the 
final  scenes  at  Yorktown,  but  with  such  lack  of  inter- 
est in  my  own  story  —  my  mind  all  the  time  on 
other  words  I  wished  to  speak  —  that  there  was  no 
spirit  in  the  narrative.  Disgusted  with  my  bungling 


336  DONALD  McELROY 

of  such  an  inspiring  subject,  I  broke  off  abruptly, 
then  after  a  silence  surcharged  with  emotion  — "  Oh, 
heart  of  my  heart,"  I  asked,  "  have  you  ready  the 
answer  to  my  letter?  " 

"  Almost,"  and  there  was  the  dear  harp-like 
tremor  in  her  tones,  which  bespoke  deep  feeling. 

"  Meantime  I  may  feed  on  hope,  may  I  not,  ma- 
vourneen?  " 

"  Some  men  need  only  their  own  resolution,  Don- 
ald, to  base  assurance  upon,"  and  she  smiled  at  me, 
in  such  wise  that  I  grew  suddenly  dizzy,  then  gliding 
away  from  me  to  the  top  of  the  steps  — "  you  are 
one  of  those  masterful  men,  cousin,  whose  will  is  not 
to  be  gainsaid  by  any  weaker  vessel." 

"  So  I  fail  not  this  time,  I  can  trust  my  will  for 
all  the  rest  of  my  life,"  I  answered  — "  but  you  know 
full  well,  Ellen,  that  with  you  I  am  very  coward," 
following  her,  and  capturing  the  hands  she  had 
clasped  about  a  column  of  the  porch.  "  Dearest  one, 
I  have  waited  long,  and,  it  seems  to  me,  most  pa- 
tiently and  humbly  —  ask  not,  I  beseech  you,  much 
more  of  my  fortitude."  Then  I  kissed  softly  the 
blue-veined  wrists,  where  her  heart's  blood  pulsed 
warmest,  and  asked  once  more,  "  May  I  hope,  ma- 
vourneen?"  getting  for  answer  a  low,  but  tenderly 
spoken  "  Yes,  but  ask  no  more,  now.  Be  patient, 
dear  Donald,  only  a  little  longer,"  and  once  more 
she  lifted  her  quivering  eyelids,  and  flashed  a  smile 
upon  me  which  filled  my  veins  with  an  all-pervading 
thrill  of  fiery  joy.  Again  I  kissed  the  white  wrists, 
looked  into  her  eyes  for  one  instant,  spoke  a  mur- 
mured word  of  joy,  then  —  lest  I  could  no  longer 
resist  the  mad  impulse  to  clasp  her  in  my  arms,  and 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  337 

ease  all  my  violent  emotion  in  passionate  caresses  — 
turned,  and,  without  daring  to  grant  myself  a  single 
backward  glance,  walked  swiftly  away  in  the  star- 
light. •  No  single  self-conquest  of  my  life  cost  me 
the  effort  of  that  one. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Buford  came  down  from  Staunton  the  morning 
after  my  arrival  to  urge  upon  mother  and  Jean  an 
immediate  marriage.  News  had  just  come  to  him 
that  made  his  presence  in  Philadelphia  necessary 
within  the  fortnight,  and  he  was  so  unwilling,  he 
declared,  to  leave  the  valley  until  Jean  was  his  own, 
beyond  question  of  his  right  to  return  for  her,  that, 
rather  than  do  so,  he  would  forfeit  the  chance  for 
pardon,  and  restoration  of  his  property,  which  this 
call  to  Philadelphia  seemed  to  promise  him.  With 
my  help  mother's  objections  were  overborne,  and  it 
was  settled  that  the  ceremony  should  take  place  on 
the  first  day  we  could  procure  the  services  of  a  clergy- 
man of  the  Church  of  England. 

Under  the  establishment,  a  marriage  solemnized 
by  any  other  than  an  Episcopal  rector  was  not 
strictly  valid  in  law,  and  though  such  marriages  had 
been  spasmodically  tolerated  under  certain  circum- 
stances, they  were  regarded  with  such  ill  favor  by 
the  courts  that  they  often  gave  rise  to  unpleasant 
complications  afterwards.  It  was,  therefore,  our 
custom  to  submit  to  the  mortification  of  begging  the 
nearest  Episcopal  clergyman  to  read  the  service, 
previous  to  the  solemnization  of  the  contract  by  our 
own  minister.  The  nearest  clergyman  to  us  lived 
more  than  thirty  miles  distant,  and  as  he  spent  much 
of  his  time  in  Williamsburg,  it  was  a  difficult  matter 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  339 

to  induce  him  to  go  any  distance  to  legalize  the  mar- 
riage of  dissenters.  However,  I  preferred  not  to  be 
the  one  to  enlighten  Buford  on  this  subject. 

Buford  and  I  rode  together  to  see  the  clergyman, 
while  Thomas  went  to  Staunton  for  a  persuasive 
interview  with  Nelly  —  we  to  join  him  there  next 
day.  Our  clergyman  was  at  his  midday  meal  when 
we  arrived,  and  we  were  left  to  cool  our  heels  in  his 
draughty  hall  while  he  finished  leisurely  an  evidently 
tempting  repast.  He  came  out  to  us  after  three 
quarters  of  an  hour,  cleaning  his  teeth  with  a  golden 
pick,  a  string  of  hounds  at  his  heels,  and  his  top 
boots  muddy  from  his  morning  ride.  We  intro- 
duced ourselves,  and  announced  our  business. 

"  You  are  modest  in  your  request,  sirs.  Think 
you  I  have  nothing  else  to  do  than  to  ride  all  over 
the  State  reading  the  marriage  ceremony  for  dissen- 
ters? Such  usually  come  to  me.  Bring  your 
wenches  behind  you  any  afternoon  this  week  and 
I'll  make  quick  work  of  the  marriage  service  for 
your  benefit." 

"  This  gentleman,  sir,  who  is  to  marry  my  sister," 
I  made  calm  answer,  though  restraining  my  anger 
with  no  small  effort,  "  was  late  an  officer  in  the 
British  army,  and  is  a  member  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land. He  is  entitled  to  your  services,  therefore, 
through  the  double  claim  of  like  politics  and  religion. 
His  sister  weds  my  cousin.  To  neither  of  them 
would  it  appear  seemly  to  ride  the  width  of  two 
counties  to  seek  their  church's  blessing  on  their  mar- 
riage." 

"  You  should  have  stated  those  facts  before,"  re- 
sponded the  clergyman  stiffly,  but  with  sense  enough 


340  DONALD  McELROY 

of  decency  to  flush  as  he  turned  to  Buford.  "  Your 
rank  and  name  again,  please.  1  shall  be  glad  to 
come  to  you  any  day  and  hour  you  may  name.  It  is 
my  duty  and  my  privilege  to  go  wherever  needed  by 
those  of  the  established  faith,  but  I  do  not  consider 
it  so  to  be  gallivanting  from  hut  to  hut  to  marry  all 
the  heretics  in  this  valley  —  who  have  made  such  ado 
about  the  tithings  of  their  pitiful  substance,  that  the 
State  has  been  forced  to  heed  their  clamor,  and  we 
are  cut  down  to  a  beggar's  stipend." 

"  Since  the  State  requires  your  services  to  legiti- 
matize marriage,  since  you  are  paid  to  perform  that 
duty  —  and  from  the  scarcity  of  your  parishioners 
I  judge  your  other  duties  are  by  no  means  onerous  — 
I  see  not  how  you  can  excuse  yourself,"  was  Buford's 
cool  rejoinder  "  But  you  shall  be  well  paid  for  your 
needful  assistance,  sir.  Shall  we  say  Thursday 
afternoon,  McElroy?  There  is  to  be  a  second  serv- 
ice in  the  evening,  solemnized  by  your  own  minister, 
as  you  know,  and  this  would  better  be  got  through 
with  beforehand." 

Buford,  I  saw,  was  seething  inwardly  by  this 
time,  and  holding  the  reins  on  his  passion  with  rigid 
grip;  the  clergyman,  too,  was  waxing  hot,  and  there 
was  need  to  terminate  the  interview  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. 

"  It  is  small  wonder,  McElroy,  that  you  Presby- 
terians are  so  set  against  an  established  church," 
commented  Buford  as  we  remounted  our  horses. 
"  I  understand  as  never  before,  that  men  appointed 
to  holy  office  by  royal  or  state  patronage  are  more 
likely  than  otherwise  to  be  men  unfitted  for  the  dis- 
charge of  sacred  duties;  to  them  it  is  a  living  rather 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  341 

than  a  holy  calling.  Count  me  on  your  side,  Don- 
ald, when  you  are  ready  to  throw  yourself  into  the 
fight  for  religious  liberty,  which  is,  I  believe,  the  next 
war  you  Scotch  Irish  propose  to  engage  in,  now  that 
your  state  independence  has  been  won." 

"  The  fight  for  religious  liberty  and  for  the  sepa- 
ration of  church  and  state  is  already  on.  All 
through  the  greater  war  our  ministers  have  kept  up 
a  brisk  warfare  of  yearly  memorials  and  petitions  to 
the  State  Assembly.  Four  years  ago  Mr.  Jefferson 
drew  up  a  statute  of  religious  liberty  which  he  offered 
to  the  Assembly,  and  which  has  since  been  brought  up 
at  each  session  for  warm  discussion.  Sooner  or  later 
the  measure  will  be  carried,  and  you  are  right  in  sup- 
posing that  that  is  the  next  fight  in  which  I  shall 
enlist;  nor  shall  I  forget  your  promise  to  be  on  my 
side  the  next  time,"  and  I  laid  my  hand  on  Buford's 
arm.  Already  I  felt  almost  a  brother's  affection 
for  him. 

"  After  this,  Donald,"  said  Buford  with  feeling, 
"  your  people  shall  be  my  people,  your  country  my 
country,  and  your  interests  mine;  and,"  he  added 
more  lightly,  "  if  I  meet  many  more  mere  holders  of 
livings,  like  the  clergyman  we  have  just  left,  your 
religion  shall  be  mine  also." 

"  You  and  Jean  shall  settle  that  question  to  your 
mutual  satisfaction,"  I  answered,  smiling;  "  if  you 
can  make  an  Episcopalian  out  of  her  you  have  my 
consent." 

"  She  shall  make  anything  out  of  me  she  wishes," 
and  Buford's  face  and  voice  were  softened  by  quick 
springing  tenderness.  "  My  one  ambition  shall  be 
to  make  her  happy." 


342  DONALD  McELROY 

"  You  will  not  find  that  a  hard  task,"  I  answered, 
with  a  sigh  for  my  own  delayed  happiness;  "she 
loves  you  dearly." 

"  Look  here,  Donald.  Some  forts  may  not  be 
taken  by  the  most  persistent  siege;  a  bold  assault  is 
the  only  way.  Miss  Ellen  loves  you,  but  she  dare 
not  close  the  door  for  good  and  all  on  the  morbid 
conscience  to  which  she  has  so  long  listened.  Sur- 
prise her  into  an  irreclaimable  step,  and  she  will  but 
love  you  the  more  for  having  mastered  her  will,  since 
you  have  already  mastered  her  heart. 

"  But  how?  "  I  questioned  eagerly.  "  I  was  never 
shrewd  at  strategy,  and  am,  at  best,  but  a  backwoods- 
man in  love  warfare." 

"  Procure  a  license  for  your  marriage  to-day,  and 
Wednesday  show  it  to  her,  refusing  to  listen  to  her 
plea  for  postponement. 

"  Ellen  would  hold  no  marriage  valid  for  herself 
not  solemnized  by  a  priest." 

"  Call  this  but  the  civil  contract  and  explain  it  is  to 
get  this  unpleasant  necessity  for  a  Church  of  England 
ceremony  over  with.  You  will  surprise  her  into  the 
necessary  step  before  she  has  time  to  listen  to  her 
doubts  and  fears,  and  can  afford,  then,  to  wait  for 
priest's  blessing  before  you  shall  claim  her.  I  will 
bring  you  a  priest  on  my  return  from  Baltimore." 

"Suppose  Ellen  should  be  angry?"  and  I  shud- 
dered at  the  bare  thought. 

"  What  woman  was  ever  made  angry  by  the  dar- 
ing determination  of  the  man  she  loves,  to  win  her 
at  all  hazards?  If  at  first  Ellen  should  seem  angry, 
be  deeply  grieved,  and  declare  your  intention  to  go 
to  Kentucky  to  join  Clark,  and  fight  the  Indians.  If 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  343 

she  loves  you,  as  she  does,  she  will  never  consent  to 
that." 

Buford's  suggestion  appeared  more  and  more 
feasible  as  my  mind  dallied  with  the  tempting  pros- 
pect. In  the  end  three  licenses  were  procured. 
Thomas,  who  acted  for  Ellen,  swore  profound  se- 
crecy, and  I  rode  home  with  the  folded  paper  on 
which  hung  my  destiny  feeling  warm  against  my 
beating  heart.  The  more  I  contemplated  the  rash- 
ness of  my  deed,  next  day,  the  more  I  feared  Ellen's 
displeasure.  When  evening  came,  I  was  still  in  a 
state  of  excitement  that  seemed  to  key  all  my  fac- 
ulties to  a  higher  pitch. 

An  Indian  summer's  day  had  been  followed  by  a 
calm  but  buoyant  night.  The  sky,  unflecked  by  light- 
est cloud,  sparkled  overhead,  an  arch  of  congealed 
azure,  amidst  which  the  big  bright  moon  shone  with 
such  radiant  resplendence  that  the  stars  were  quite 
outdone  and  gleamed  almost  apologetically,  as  if 
aware  that  this  was  not  their  hour.  As  the  sky 
dipped  down  to  meet  the  mountains,  lifting  their 
purple  bulk  in  soft  but  distinct  undulation,  the 
sparkling  blue  melted  to  a  fathomless,  almost  color- 
less mist,  which  cast  over  the  dark  blue  range  a 
mysterious  reflection,  exaggerating  its  bulk,  its  mys- 
tery, and  its  silence. 

The  night,  I  thought,  was  like  Ellen,  exhilarating, 
joy-giving,  yet  serious  and  thought-compelling  —  its 
beauty  and  sweetness  far  removed  from  the  beauty 
and  sweetness  of  common  things,  by  a  silent  sugges- 
tion of  unfathomed  depths.  I  found  her  alone  on 
the  porch,  a  white  shawl  so  draped  about  her  that 
once  again  she  looked  as  she  did  that  night  at  the 


344  DONALD  McELROY 

spring,  when  she  was  yet  a  child,  like  a  spirit  from 
some  purer  world. 

"  Ellen,"  I  began,  dropping  down  on  the  step 
below  her,  and  compelling  her  dream-held  eyes  to 
recognize  mine,  "  have  I  kept  high  carnival  in  my 
heart  these  last  three  days  for  naught,  or  are  you 
but  playing  with  my  hopes?  Surely,  Ellen,  promise 
is  but  delayed  fulfillment." 

"  Has  it  made  you  very  happy  —  the  hope?  "  she 
asked,  her  tones  soft  and  dreamy,  like  the  far-away 
notes  of  a  violin.  "  You  are  'very  sure  that  you  will 
always  be  entirely  content  with  me  ?  The  pleadings 
of  my  own  heart,  Donald,  I  might  have  resisted,  but 
to  bring  you  happiness,  to  bless  and  crown  your  life, 
as  you  say  I  alone  can  —  to  resist  that  temptation, 
Donald,  was  beyond  my  soul's  strength.  I  may 
have  been  hard  to  win,  dear,  but  your  conquest  is 
complete." 

My  right  arm  clasped  her,  and  her  head  sank  to 
my  breast,  as  a  bird  into  its  nest,  and  rested  there  as 
quietly. 

"Then  you  will  grant  my  request,  Ellen?"  my 
heart  throbbing  tremulously.  "  Say  you  will ! 
Even  before  I  make  it,  that  will  be  the  sealing  sign 
of  your  love  and  confidence." 

"  You  could  ask  nothing  I  would  refuse." 

"  Then  marry  me  to-morrow,  mavourneen !  "  and 
before  she  could  answer,  I  dropped  softly  upon  her 
lips  the  first  kiss  I  had  ever  dared  to  claim. 

"To-morrow,  Donald?"  she  questioned,  with 
more  of  curiosity  than  anger  or  even  surprise;  "  how 
could  that  be?  But  it  shall  be  soon,  dear,  almost 
as  soon  as  you  could  ask." 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  345 

Then  I  explained  all,  and  told  her  how  I  had 
dreaded  her  anger,  and  yet  felt  that  I  could  endure 
suspense  no  longer,  but  must  somehow  force  her  to 
make  me  the  very  happiest  or  most  miserable  of 
men. 

"  And  you  will  wait  for  priest's  blessing  on  our 
union,  before  you  claim  me,  Donald  —  you  have 
thought  fully  about  it?  " 

"  When  you  come  to  my  home,  Ellen,  it  shall  be 
with  the  full  and  glad  consent  of  your  whole  heart. 
This  marriage  to-morrow  will  be  no  more  than  the 
publishing  of  our  banns,  after  all,  but  I  shall  be  sure 
of  you  then;  my  heart  will  be  at  rest,  and  this  annoy- 
ing necessity  for  a  Church  of  England  ceremony  will 
be  done  with.  Our  real  marriage  will  be  wholly  a 
dear  and  solemn  rite." 

"  Do  you  know,  dear  Donald,"  said  Ellen,  after  a 
long  silence  while  her  heart  beat  against  mine,  "  I  am 
very  glad  it  is  all  settled  at  last,  that  after  to-morrow 
I  shall  have  no  right  to  question  my  soul,  or  even  to 
pray  for  further  guidance?  Once  I  am  your  wife, 
dear,  I  shall  give  all  my  thoughts  and  prayers  to 
wifely  duty.  Do  not  fear  I  shall  still  try  your  pa- 
tient soul  with  doubts  and  regrets." 

"  I  fear  nothing,  dear  one,  now  that  we  are  one. 
Do  you  know,  mavourneen,  that  you  can  have  no 
feeling,  no  thought,  hereafter,  that  I  shall  not  share, 
and  that  I  shall  experience  no  emotion  you  will  not 
feel?  Awful  mystery,  yet  precious  reality,  this 
merging  of  two  spirits  into  one !  " 

My  eyes  had  turned  from  time  to  time  to  rest  in 
rapt  thankfulness  upon  sky  and  mountain;  but  now, 
suddenly,  I  was  aware  that  the  haunting  mystery, 


346  DONALD  McELROY 

lately  brooding  over  the  horizon,  was  gone,  and  in 
its  place  only  a  perfect  peace  beyond  which  the  shin- 
ing circle  of  the  moon,  climbing  higher  and  higher 
in  the  azure  dome,  gave  promise  of  joys  beyond,  infi- 
nite and  eternal. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

Impatiently  our  household  awaited  Buford's  re- 
turn. Jean,  his  bride  of  two  days,  bore  his  absence, 
and  the  suspense  of  his  still  unsettled  fate,  with  more 
fortitude  than  I  the  weary  waiting  for  the  coming  of 
the  priest,  whose  blessing  was  to  give  me  my  own  — 
my  Ellen.  Each  day,  as  I  watched  her  minister 
more  and  more  tenderly  to  Aunt  Martha,  who  was 
slowly  dying,  and  had  now  and  then  rare  hours  of 
confidential  intercourse  with  her,  my  love,  which  I 
had  thought  already  great  beyond  power  of  increase, 
grew  and  deepened,  till  every  plan  and  aspiration 
centered  around  her,  every  thought  and  emotion  was 
inspired  by  the  glad  consciousness  of  our  mutual 
love. 

Thomas  and  Nelly  would  not  start  to  Kentucky 
while  their  mother  lived,  nor  until  after  Buford's 
fate  was  settled. 

There  was  much  hot,  foolish  talk  of  banishing 
Tories,  and  the  English  government  had  been  or- 
dered to  convey  them  to  England.  Through  the 
strong  influence  which  General  Morgan  and  myself 
had  been  able  to  enlist  for  Buford,  however,  we 
hoped  to  procure  for  him,  at  least,  a  pardon.  Both 
households  lived  on  week  after  week  in  anxious  sus- 
pense, made  endurable  by  the  love  which  brightened 
the  lagging  hours. 


348  DONALD  McELROY 

Meantime  Ellen's  home  was  building,  planned  as 
to  its  larger  outlines  after  my  vision,  but  in  all  details 
modeled  to  meet  Ellen's  tastes  and  wishes.  When- 
ever the  weather  permitted,  and  it  was  possible  for 
her  to  leave  Aunt  Martha  —  for  even  the  new 
daughter  could  not  take  Ellen's  place  acceptably  at 
the  invalid's  bedside  —  we  rode  together  to  the  green 
knoll  with  its  fair  prospect,  which  our  home  was  to 
crown,  to  inspect  with  almost  affectionate  interest 
each  beam  and  brick,  and  to  suggest,  alter,  and  re- 
plan  to  the  bewilderment  of  the  tolerant  workmen. 
Nevertheless  the  slow  winter  days  dragged  along, 
and  Buford's  repeated  delays  and  excuses  wore  my 
patience  to  a  thin  edge  as  spring  approached.  Was 
I  to  wait  forever  for  my  long  withheld  happiness? 

Aunt  Martha  had  been  beyond  all  suffering  for  a 
week,  and  Thomas  and  Nelly  were  almost  deter- 
mined to  start  to  their  waiting  field  of  labor  without 
again  seeing  Buf ord,  when  he  returned  —  taking  us 
all  by  surprise  at  last. 

But  he  brought  no  priest  with  him.  "  None 
would  come  so  far,"  he  said,  "  in  such  unsettled 
times."  One  indeed  had  been  at  first  willing,  but 
could  not  get  the  requisite  dispensation  from  his 
superior.  He,  Buford,  would  be  obliged  to  go  back 
at  once  to  Philadelphia,  but  he  could  stand  the  sepa- 
ration no  longer  and  had  returned  for  Jean.  Why 
not  Ellen  and  I  go  with  them,  stop  in  Baltimore  to 
be  married,  and  then  go  on  to  Philadelphia  to  help 
him?  With  me  to  intercede,  personally,  for  him,  he 
felt  sure  of  obtaining  not  only  pardon  but  the  resto- 
ration of  his  estates. 

I  took  this  disappointing  news  across  the  fields  to 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  349 

Ellen.  Surely  the  fate  of  Tantalus  was  not  much 
worse  than  mine ! 

"  Yes,  I'll  go  to  Baltimore  with  you,  Donald," 
she  said  cheerily  —  seeming  so  little  disappointed 
over  this  further  delay  that  I  was  for  the  moment 
hurt.  "  Indeed,  if  you  can  help  your  brother,  it  is 
your  duty  to  go.  Moreover,  I  shall  like  a  wedding 
journey,  and  I  have  always  wanted  to  go  to  Balti- 
more and  to  Philadelphia." 

That  put  a  new  phase  on  the  matter.  Since  it 
would  give  Ellen  pleasure  to  take  the  journey,  and 
we  would  take  it  together,  I  could  endure  a  few  more 
days  of  waiting.  And  a  happy  journey  it  was,  in 
our  own  four-horse  post  chaise,  notwithstanding  the 
roads  were  muddy,  and  the  March  weather  precari- 
ous. Still  more  happy  its  ending. 

Ellen  and  I  were  married  in  the  Cathedral  by  the 
solemn  ceremony  of  the  Catholic  Church,  with  only 
the  priest's  assistance  —  the  choir  boys,  and  Jean 
and  Buford  for  witnesses.  Afterwards  Ellen  went 
into  the  confessional,  while  I  waited  alone  for  her 
in  the  dimly  lighted,  reverence-inspiring  edifice.  She 
joined  me,  presently,  her  face  both  tender  and  radi- 
ant. 

"  The  good  Father,  Donald,"  she  whispered,  slip- 
ping a  warm  little  hand  into  mine,  "  bade  me  obey 
my  husband,  and  follow  my  conscience  in  all  things  — 
even  should  that  lead  me  into  becoming  a  Protestant; 
for  I  must  not  let  my  religion  come  between  me  and 
my  wifely  duty,  since  marriage  was  a  God  appointed 
sacrament.  You  must  never  again  say,  my  husband, 
that  the  Catholic  faith  is  bigoted  and  superstitious." 

"  I  trust  I  shall  never  say  anything  to  wound  my 


350  DONALD  McELROY 

dear  wife,"  I  answered;  "all  her  principles  and 
feelings  are  sacred  to  me.  As  to  her  being  a  Prot- 
estant, that  she  shall  never  be  unless  she  truly  wishes 
it.  As  a  loyal  Catholic,  I  have  learned  to  love  her, 
and  if  she  is  happier  still  to  be  one,  I  shall  love  her 
none  the  less  for  that,"  and  I  kissed  first  the  sweet, 
earnest  face  upturned  to  mine,  and  then  the  tiny 
jeweled  cross  which  had  been  one  of  my  gifts  to  her. 
Three  weeks  later  Buford's  pardon  had  been  ob- 
tained, with  a  full  restoration  of  his  estates.  He 
would  return  to  Philadelphia,  occupy  the  family  man- 
sion, and  resume  his  father's  business,  for  which 
indeed  he  had  been  destined  and  trained.  But,  first, 
he  must  take  Jean  back  to  her  mother,  as  he  had 
promised,  and  gain  her  consent  to  really  giving  up 
her  only  daughter.  Buford's  supposed  poverty,  in- 
deed, had  been  a  strong  argument  in  his  favor  with 
my  mother.  If  he  had  nothing,  she  argued,  why 
should  they  not  settle  down  on  the  home  place  ?  It 
was  big  enough  for  all  and  then  she  and  Jean  would 
never  be  separated.  Buford's  good  fortune  would 
be,  I  feared,  a  sad  blow  to  dear  mother.  But,  then, 
Ellen  and  I  would  live  not  far  away,  and  she  could 
often  visit  us;  while  Jean  affirmed  that  her  mother 
should  spend  part  of  each  year  in  Philadelphia  — 
for,  after  all,  it  was  not  much  of  a  journey,  with 
good  stage  roads  all  the  way. 


This  is  the  true  story  of  a  somewhat  eventful  life, 
and  I  must  e'en  tell  it  as  it  happened.  I  cannot  then 
conclude  it  by  saying  that  Ellen  and  I  lived  in  perfect 
happiness  ever  after.  In  truth  we  had  our  sorrows 


SCOTCH  IRISHMAN  351 

and  disappointments,  such  sorrows  and  disappoint- 
ments as  are  common  to  mortals  —  even  our  differ- 
ences at  times. 

Yet,  looking  back  upon  our  united  lives,  I  see  that 
they  have  been  full  and  happy  —  almost  realizing 
the  radiant  vision  of  my  youth. 

One  of  the  incidents  of  it  which  gave  us  much 
pleasure,  was  a  visit,  some  years  after  our  marriage, 
from  good  Father  Gibault.  His  love  for  Ellen  and 
hers  for  him  was  almost  that  of  a  real  father  and 
daughter,  and  his  interest  in  our  children  that  of  a 
grandfather  Especially  did  he  take  delight  in  the 
manly  blue-eyed  son  we  had  named  for  him.  Before 
he  bade  us  farewell,  to  return  to  his  beloved  land  of 
Illinois,  he  absolved  Ellen  finally  from  her  allegiance 
to  her  old  faith,  bidding  her,  since  her  conscience 
allowed  it,  be  one  in  creed  also  with  the  husband  to 
whom  she  was  fully  united  in  life  and  purpose. 
Though  devoted  priest  of  a  faith,  held  bigoted  by 
some,  he  too  believed  that  creeds  are  man  made,  and 
that  God  lives  not  in  doctrines,  but  in  our  hearts  and 
in  our  deeds. 


THE    END 


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